


Moondance

by flowerfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexytimes, Werecat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: Steve and Bucky are faced with a new challenge after Bucky is poisoned during a mission; it changes his behavior and his body in increasingly perplexing ways.  Bucky struggles with telling Steve what’s going on, but when Steve finds out his secret, it seems like things will be okay anyway… until they’re not.Or the one where Bucky’s a werecat.  Steve thinks it’s hot, at least until they learn he could lose Bucky for good.Canon compliant through CA:CW; canon divergent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Arania [araniaart](http://araniaart.tumblr.com/) for working with me and creating the amazing artwork that inspired me, to perry_avenue for being the world’s best beta, and to everyone at capreversebb for running this great challenge.

“Holy shit, Steve, that feels good.”

Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bed, his head thrown back and his hands clutching the mattress, while Steve kneels on the itchy hotel carpet in front of him. He slides off Bucky with a satisfying pop and grins when Bucky quickly looks down at him, eyes blown wide with lust and one eyebrow raised.

“You gonna finish what you started?” Bucky asks, voice low.

“I could,” Steve says, giving Bucky’s cock a teasing lick, “but I really want something else right now. Unless you object.”

Bucky responds by grabbing Steve with both hands and tugging him up on to the bed, meeting his mouth in a fierce kiss. “No objection here,” Bucky mumbles against Steve’s neck, starting to kiss down his bare chest. 

Steve lays back and lets Bucky play, squirming as Bucky takes his time worshiping Steve’s pecs and sucking on his nipples. He lets the fingers of one hand tangle in Bucky’s hair, and smiles as Bucky pauses to look approvingly up at him through his long eyelashes, then continues his ministrations.

Sure, not everything has been smooth between them since Bucky came out of cryo in Wakanda, finally de-triggered and slowly gaining confidence in himself. But recently this – the sex – has been awesome. 

It’s been almost six months now, and Steve thinks they have found their rhythm. Mostly they have a quiet life, keeping house together in Brooklyn, each trying to find their way in this new century that still doesn’t seem quite real to either of them. More and more they’ve been taking part in Avengers missions, too. Bucky hasn’t come out and said it, but it seems to satisfy something in him to be a part of a team again, to be working towards a common goal, one that as best they can tell isn’t evil.

And if the thought of going out and fighting the bad guys gets both of them hot, well, ain’t no one complaining.

Bucky has finally made his way down Steve’s body, nosing against his thigh to move Steve where he wants him, fingers sliding back to tease, when Steve’s phone rings, immediately followed by Bucky’s, which bounces off the night table and falls on to the floor.

“Fuck.” Bucky sits up on his knees, hands sliding down Steve’s legs.

“Or not,” Steve says, twisting to get the phone. If it hadn’t been the ring both of them had set for emergency Avengers business, he’d have ignored it. But the whole reason they’re in this stuffy hotel room outside of Panama City is because there’s a former Hydra operative threatening to let loose some kind of robot army nearby, not to fool around on scratchy sheets.

Steve listens to Coulson’s instructions, nodding. “Yeah, Bucky’s right here.” He glances over, reluctantly watching Bucky squeeze his naked ass into his tac pants. “We’re on our way.”

******

 

The good news is that Coulson located the robots before they got to a more populated area. The bad news is that they’re in some kind of rainforest, and it’s hot as hell.

Tony and Steve are leading the way through a village that has seen better days, residents slamming the doors of their ramshackle buildings as they pass by. Natasha’s on flank, and Bucky and Clint are in the rear, Bucky staying on the rooftops as much as possible to provide cover.

The robots appear from around a corner, first just a few and then a dozen all lumbering towards them, hissing as they move. 

“They kinda look like the creatures from Alien,” Clint says through the comm link. “Steve, that’s a movie where-”

“Seen it, thanks,” Steve says under his breath, as Clint continues to tell the story. Clint’s right, though – the creatures do look a little like the alien that Sigourney Weaver battled with, walking upright, with sharp teeth, and long bony tails waving back and forth behind them. But the heads are different, rounder, with strange pointy ears that twitch as the creatures move. 

“Are we sure those are robots, not some kind of living thing?” Steve asks, when his shield comes back for the third time with slime on it. 

“Affirmative,” Tony says, taking out three of the creatures in a row. “Jarvis says they’re robots. Just made to look like monsters.” 

“Why the hell is that necessary,” Natasha asks, sending widow bites flying towards a robot that slipped past Steve’s shield. “Aren’t evil robots bad enough?”

Just then there’s a shrieking noise, and a circular object slams into the road next to Natasha. Tony swoops in and flies her away as they all brace for impact, but there’s no explosion. Instead smoke pours out of the device, and a noxious smell hits Steve’s nose.

“Masks on,” Tony shouts into Steve’s ear. “Unidentifiable, but probably not good.”

“Smells like skunk,” Clint says. “I hate skunks. Why’d they pick skunk?”

Steve pulls his facemask on, twisting to see if he can see if Bucky is doing the same. Bucky really doesn’t like having anything on his face, and Steve hasn’t needed to ask him why – the muzzle he used to wear as the Winter Soldier is probably not something he wants to remember. But after an incident last month where a mad scientist drenched them all in sleeping gas Coulson had insisted that Bucky be prepared to wear a face mask if necessary, and Bucky had grudgingly agreed.

“Buck, you okay?” Steve finally asks, unable to locate Bucky while simultaneously aiming his shield at the robots which are still coming at them.

“Too fucking hot for this,” is the reply. “Anyway, the smoke isn’t coming up here.”

“Bucky, you have to wear it, smoke rises, you can’t take the chance-”

“Calm your tits, Cap. He’s got his mask on.” Tony flies over Steve’s head and slams down next to him, shooting at robots all the while. He’s probably smirking inside his helmet.

Steve wants to yell at the both of them, but he’s too busy right now to get distracted. Any more distracted, anyway.

It’s a risk, he knows, going out on missions with Bucky. Because Steve can’t help but worry about him. Rationally he knows Bucky is more than capable of taking care of himself, but after all they’ve been through, to lose him to some random bad guy isn’t something Steve wants to contemplate. But Bucky made clear early on that he wants to fight, and Bucky’s not so keen on Steve being out here without Bucky to watch his six, and so here they both are, sweating and cursing in a hundred-degree rainforest and shooting at lumbering robots.

*****  
Bucky did put his mask on, he’s not an idiot. He can smell the vile smoke as well as anyone on the team, and he doesn’t actually have a death wish. But his hair and skin are drenched in sweat, and the damn thing keeps sliding to the side and cutting off his ability to breathe through his nose.

He shoves at the mask again, trying to readjust it, but it just gets worse. Bucky tries to ignore it and focus on taking out the robots (they look scary, and there are an awful lot of them, but they don’t seem very good at evading Bucky’s shots), and he’s successful for a few minutes, but then he starts coughing and nearly chokes with the effort to get more air.

He flattens himself against the roof he’s lying on and takes off the mask, trying not to breathe until it is firmly affixed on his face again, but he can’t stop coughing long enough. The air he finally inhales is thick and leaves a sour taste in the back of his throat, but it doesn’t seem to do him any harm, and at least once he’s done he can breathe properly.

It seems to take forever to stop all the robots, but no one gets hurt, and they finally make their way back to the quinjet. They’re all sticky and miserable, except for Tony, who steps out of his suit clean and fresh as a daisy. Clint kicks his shin as he struts by on his way to the front of the plane, and Tony just rolls his eyes at him.

“Not my fault you don’t want a suit,” Tony comments, seating himself next to Steve.

“I don’t need a suit,” Clint mutters.

“What you need is a shower,” Natasha says, sitting down next to him. “Shove over and try not to drip on me.” Natasha has managed to find a towel somewhere, and she’s wiping herself off, frowning as she unzips her slime-speckled jacket.

Bucky’s further back on the bench, peeling himself out of his tac gear. His hair is drenched in sweat, and he catches the hair tie Natasha tosses him without even looking.

“Thanks.” He pulls his hair back into a little bun, relieved to at least get it out of his face.

“Pozhaluysta,” Natasha replies.

It amuses Natasha to speak Russian to Bucky. It had bothered him, at first, an unwelcome reminder of so many bad things that had happened to him. But as he has come to terms with things and focused on wiping out the red in his ledger, as Natasha phrases it, he decided he might as well put the tools that Hydra had given him to good use. And it’s convenient to speak Russian with her when he doesn’t want the others to know what they are saying.

It particularly drives Steve nuts, which is fun.

By the time they get back to Avengers Tower (it’s a new one, but just as swanky as the first) the sweat has dried everywhere, and Bucky is considering throwing his clothes in the garbage. They’re all spending the night here so as to be on hand for the debrief tomorrow. Bucky doesn’t mind – the shower’s way better than the one in their Brooklyn place.

Steve gets a call from Coulson as soon as they reach their floor, so Bucky happily snags the first shower. It feels good to be clean, but he’s got a whopper of a headache settling in, so he pulls on some sleep pants and a t-shirt and crawls into bed.

Steve joins him sometime later, curling up behind him and pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder. He smells like coconut shampoo.

“Buck, you okay?” Steve smooths a hand down his arm, and Bucky slides back against him. 

“Mmm, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Me too.” Steve shifts, settling against Bucky with his hand around his waist. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

*****  
When Steve wakes up, he’s alone in the bed. This isn’t too unusual – sometimes one or the other of them just has too much energy in the morning to sleep in. Although Steve had been hoping for a little not-safe-for-work activity this morning, he also sees the logic of waiting until they get back to their own apartment. 

Steve spends a few minutes sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee, reading the paper (an actual paper, one he can hold in his hand, thank you very much). Turns out Tony likes to read real papers too, and has no problem having them delivered to anyone in the Tower who is interested – it was one of the things they had bonded over when Steve first joined the Avengers.

Things with Tony are more complicated now. After the whole war over the Sekovia Accords, with the Avengers taking sides and Tony trying to kill Bucky, well, it was probably too much to expect that everyone could just forgive and forget.

But while Bucky was in cryo back in Wakanda, Tony had read the Winter Soldier’s file, and done some digging, and then some more. Then he had helped organize a mission to take down a Hydra base, one that Bucky’s intel had led them to, and saw for himself one of the places they had kept Bucky, including the machine they used to wipe his memories over and over.

Afterwards Tony had gotten a message to Steve in Wakanda, and they started talking again. Steve hadn’t been present for the conversation Tony and Bucky had when Bucky came out of cryo, but the fact that Tony had made Bucky a brand new vibranium arm pretty much said it all. Tony saves the best tech for his friends. 

When Steve finishes his coffee he pulls on jeans and a thin sweater and goes looking for Bucky. He’s not in the common area, or the gym. Steve takes the elevator up to the roof and walks out on to the elegantly landscaped patio. It’s pleasantly warm for early spring, and Steve smiles as he sees Bucky off to the side of the pool, facing the edge of the roof. He’s sitting in some kind of twisty yoga pose, eyes closed, sunning himself like a contented cat.

Bucky opens one eye as Steve approaches, and blinks lazily at him. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Steve sits down next to Bucky and takes in the view. He also looks at the city.

“It’s not time for our meeting yet, is it?”

“Nope.”

Bucky untangles his legs and stretches out, shifting to rest his head on Steve’s lap. Steve strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky moans softly.

“Hey, you okay?”

Bucky shrugs. “Headache. But that feels good.”

“Okay.” Steve doesn’t push, just keeps winding his fingers through Bucky’s hair and rubbing his scalp. Bucky’s been doing so well lately, he’s allowed to have a down day. Or maybe it really is a headache. The serum doesn’t cure everything, at least not right away. 

They sit there in comfortable silence until Steve’s phone pings with a reminder, and they have to go to work.

*****

Bucky’s up early, again. Although, to be fair, he never really fell asleep. It’s been this way for days, now, and it’s wearing on him. He doesn’t think Steve has noticed – he stays in bed until Steve’s breathing evens out, and then puts in another hour or two lying next to him before he gives up and goes into the living room - but it’s getting ridiculous.

He thought Steve might have been getting suspicious when he found him napping on the couch yesterday afternoon, but Steve just grinned at him and made him shove over, wrapping his strong arms around him and dozing off himself. But sleeping during most of the daylight hours isn’t really constructive, and sooner or later someone’s going to notice and start talking about therapy again.

The frustrating thing is, Bucky feels good. He’s in a better place mentally than he has been in oh, what, seventy years or so. But Steve won’t buy that, not when he finds out Bucky isn’t sleeping right.

Bucky decides to take a walk, pulling on a light jacket and going down to the street. There’s a bakery nearby that should be open already, and he and Steve both love their fresh bagels. The morning is overcast, and Bucky hisses in displeasure as raindrops start to fall the moment he leaves the store. His jacket doesn’t have a hood, so he’s left hunching his shoulders and dashing as fast as he can back to the apartment.

Steve is awake when Bucky gets home, but the bagels distract him from the fact that it’s barely 6 a.m. That and a text from Coulson Bucky apparently missed during his attempt to run between the raindrops.

At least this mission doesn’t involve a rainforest in South America. Instead they’re headed to somewhere in rural Maine. It’s just going to be Steve and Bucky, following up a lead on a former intelligence officer who may or may not have gone over to Hydra. 

“Can’t they send a junior guy to cover this kind of thing?” Bucky asks, swiping through the information Coulson sent them. 

“I guess if he is Hydra, he could be pretty dangerous,” Steve replies, although the look on his face says he agrees with Bucky.

“But what’s he doing in Maine?”

“Reenacting a Stephen King novel?”

Bucky and Steve had gotten hooked on King’s books, first The Dead Zone, and then The Shining and The Stand. Bucky started reading 11/22/63, but put it down after just a few chapters. While the Winter Solider didn’t have anything to do with Kennedy’s death, a book about political assassinations just didn’t hold the same escapist value for him compared with King’s more straightforward horror stories.

Steve frowns at Bucky’s comment, and takes another bagel out of the bag. “I’d like those stories to stay fictional, actually.”

“Like Hydra doesn’t do stuff far worse than Stephen King dreamed up,” Bucky retorts. He immediately regrets his words, though, as Steve’s face falls.

“Buck, I’m sorry, you’re right-”

“Shut up, it’s fine.” Bucky stands up and walks into their living room, stretching his shoulders. He doesn’t want to fight with Steve, especially not when he’s feeling so dopey. Right now, all he wants to do is collapse on the couch. Which gives him an idea.

“Hey, whaddya say we watch one of those Stephen King movies? You know, in preparation for the mission?”

Steve takes Bucky’s suggestion at face value and they quickly do some google research to find out which of his movies is most realistically set in Maine. Turns out lots of them are.

They’re barely twenty minutes into Cujo when Bucky falls asleep, his head resting heavily against Steve’s broad shoulder.

When Bucky wakes up, he’s curled up with his head on Steve’s lap, a fleece throw blanket over his body. The credits are rolling – and they’re not the credits from Cujo, they’re from the second King movie they selected. Bucky’s been asleep for more than four hours.

Steve waits until Bucky sits up, but then he takes Bucky’s hand and squeezes it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Steve says, soft but urgent. “Please.”

Steve may be easy-going, but he’s not oblivious. 

Bucky bites his lip and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Bucky,” Steve pleads.

“No, I mean it. Nothing’s really wrong. I’m just not sleeping well.”

But even as the words leave his mouth, Bucky knows he’s lying. Because something is wrong. He might have been fooling himself up until now, but suddenly he’s certain, deep in his bones, that something is wrong.

Steve’s not buying it, either. “I’ll call Coulson and tell him we’re not going tonight. ‘Tasha and Clint can do it.”

“Clint’s in Arizona, with Fury. And Tony, and Natasha.”

“Well, you can’t go.”

“I can, Steve. I don’t need that much sleep – you of all people should know.”

Bucky sees Steve consider this. It’s true, neither of them need more than a few hours of rest, and can easily get by on none at all for a day or two. It doesn’t explain why Bucky is so goddamned sleepy during the day, but there is no scenario that includes Bucky letting Steve go after this Hydra goon by himself. If it takes a little misdirection to get his way, so be it.

“Fine. But you’re going back to sleep when we get to the plane.”

“Fine.”

******  
Steve lands the quinjet in a field not far from the ramshackle house the target is staying in, and they jog quickly into place. Bucky positions himself on the top of a nearby barn and watches through his rifle scope, even though Steve protests that guns aren’t necessary for the mission; they’re just there to watch and observe. Better safe than sorry, Steve, have you learned nothing yet?

Steve edges slowly up to the house, places listening devices by several of the windows, then withdraws to the shelter of a tree. His hair glints silver in the moonlight, and Bucky frowns – he might as well be shining a spotlight on his head, the idiot.

Bucky stares out into the night as the hours pass. Much to his surprise, far from being sleepy, he feels as if all his senses are heightened. 

When a man comes down off the porch and starts walking towards Steve’s location, Bucky feels a familiar calm settle over him. It’s their target, no question. The man is walking strangely, his arms held out just a little bit from his body. Bucky focuses on the shape of his coat, noting the bulge around his midsection. The man pauses, moves to touch one hand to his opposite wrist, but he never reaches it – because Bucky fires, two quick shots, and the man is lying on the ground.

“Bucky! What the hell!” Steve is yelling through comm and sprinting over to the man. “You weren’t supposed to shoot him, we need to follow him, he wasn’t supposed to know we were here-“

Bucky speeds past Steve and reaches the man first, quickly pulling a band off his wrist. The man is motionless on the ground, and Steve stares at what he sees when he unzips his heavy coat. “Bucky… he was wearing a bomb.” Steve’s voice is quiet.

“Yeah, I know.” 

“You – you knew?” Steve looks at the device in Bucky’s hand. “Where was that?”

“On his wrist.” If he had touched it, he would have set off the bomb – which from the looks of it would have blown Steve, Bucky, and everything in a ten mile radius to smithereens.

“How the hell did you see that thing on his wrist?” 

Steve’s right to ask, Bucky realizes. Now that he sees it up close, the band is just a slim thing, narrower than a man’s watch. And the bomb, while deadly, didn’t really take up much space under the target’s jacket.

The question goes unanswered as they contact Coulson and wait until someone comes to retrieve the body. But when they’re back in the jet, Steve turns to Bucky with a nervous expression on his face.

“Tell me you agree – I know you’re a great shot, one of the best, always have been – but that was extraordinary, even for you.”

“Yeah, Steve. Yeah. It was.” Bucky presses his lips together. He saw the detonator on the guy’s wrist – and he saw the bomb under his jacket. From an impossible distance. In the dark.

“I can’t explain it,” Bucky goes on. “But… it’s a good thing, right?”

Steve looks away, fixing his eyes on the instruments as the plane lifts off. “Yeah, of course. Sure. You’re right.” 

They don’t talk about it again, not on the rest of the ride home, not in the car from the Tower back to their apartment, and not when they tiredly tug off their clothes and pull on pajamas. They don’t talk at all. It’s almost as bad as the terrible sense of wrongness that has taken root inside him.

The sun is coming up by the time they fall into bed together, too shaken to do anything but hold each other tight. Bucky’s grateful that it’s morning. At least he can go to sleep for a few hours.

*****  
Steve wakes to Bucky’s mouth on his, and his hand sliding under the waistband of his sleep pants.

“Bucky?”

“Steve, god, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, nibbling at Steve’s jaw and then back up to his lips. “Wanna blow you. Can I blow you?”

Steve’s still half-asleep, but his body isn’t, and he quickly gets with the program. Steve groans as Bucky slides down his chest and takes him in his mouth, bringing him to full hardness within moments. There are things they should be talking about, he knows, but it’s been days since they’ve done this, and it can’t hurt to have a little fun first, right?

Bucky pops off with a slurp and grins up at Steve, who apparently has been babbling his thoughts out loud. “Definitely can’t hurt to have a little fun first. Although…” Bucky licks a stripe up Steve and swirls his tongue around the tip, “you should give yourself a break. It’s really not little.”

Bucky sucks him down again, and Steve can’t take his eyes off of him, his brown hair falling around his face and over Steve’s body, the muscles in his flesh arm clenching and releasing as his hands roam over Steve’s overheated skin.

Bucky comes up for breath, letting his hands slide up Steve’s chest, stroking and caressing his pecs. He braces himself on one hand and rolls a nipple with the fingers of the other, just the way Steve likes it, until Steve feels a sharp pain and draws back in surprise.

“Steve?”

“Fuck, that really hurt.”

Bucky looks panicked for a moment, looking down at his metal hand, but it’s flat on the bed beside Steve, not in any danger of hurting him. “Steve? What’d I do?”

Steve’s clutching his chest, and when he moves his hand to look, he sees three long scratches from his collarbone down to his nipple, blood welling out of the deepest one.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice is high and breathy, and Steve struggles to calm himself down before Bucky loses it. 

“Hey, I’m okay, I’m okay.” Steve reaches down and pulls Bucky up towards him, ignoring the sting in his chest.

But Bucky isn’t calming down, and he pulls away from Steve, scrambling off the bed. “What’d I do?” he repeats, looking around the room as it there’s a clue hidden in yesterday’s discarded clothes.

“Bucky,” Steve says again, lacing his voice with authority. “Bucky, you just scratched me. It’s not a big deal. Come here, let me see your hand.”

Steve meets him at the foot of the bed, and makes him sit down next to him. Bucky holds out his flesh hand, and they both freeze for a moment, looking at it. His fingernails are long. Really long, like Pepper’s when she’s dressed up for a charity ball. And pointy.

Bucky tries to pull his hand away, but Steve holds it tight. He can feel Bucky trembling. 

“Maybe it’s the serum,” Bucky says finally.

They both know this makes no sense – it’s never made his nails grow long overnight before. 

“We need to tell someone.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No.”

“Really? You want to wait to see what other weird shit happens? Think this through, Bucky.”

Bucky stands up, pulling away from Steve. He’s regained his composure, at least on the surface. In some ways, this isn’t going to help – stubborn Bucky is a lot harder to convince than panicking Bucky. And neither one of them likes going to the doctor.

“I’m going for a walk. Need some air.”

Bucky stalks out of their bedroom, only to return a moment later to yank some clothes out of his drawers. 

Steve sits on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths, and trying not to think about how much the stupid scratches on his chest hurt. He can wait Bucky out. He’s done it before. 

And Steve’s not about to go behind Bucky’s back to Coulson or anyone else. It has to be Bucky’s decision, to get help from someone more qualified than Steve. Whatever else Steve thinks about this situation, that much is crystal clear.

*****

Bucky’s nearly ten blocks away from their apartment when he finally slows down. He has no fucking idea what’s going on with him, but whatever it is, it’s changing him. And he hurt Steve. That’s unacceptable.

He turns off into an alley, slides down on the ground and buries his head in his hands. Two crap hands, now – a metal hand he still doesn’t trust, no matter how fancy Stark made it, and his one remaining flesh hand, now trimmed with deadly talons. They’re both covered in black gloves at the moment, the ones he puts on to hide his metal hand, and he can feel the pointy nails of his right hand stretching the leather of the glove.

Bucky knows he ought to tell someone. But he doesn’t want to. With every fiber of his being, he really, really doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to get poked and prodded and experimented on. He’s not about to go into cryo and give up his agency altogether – that was a horrible idea, as it turned out, and he’s never doing it again. He could run – get away, somewhere where he can’t hurt Steve. But he’s tried to keep Steve safe by staying away from him before, and Steve isn’t very good at letting him go.

He sits there for a while, until his butt gets sore and he realizes that he’s so hungry he’s considering picking up the crumpled McDonald’s bag on the ground a few feet away and seeing if anything is left inside. Time to face the music, he thinks, and gets up off the ground.

When he gets back to the apartment, after a quick stop along the way, Steve is sitting in the kitchen . He’s got on a t-shirt with a flannel over it, and Bucky can’t help but wonder if he’s bothered to clean the scratches, or is just relying on the serum to heal them properly. Steve points to the cup of coffee he’s got in front of him. “Want some?” Bucky nods as he puts the bag of groceries down on the counter.

“What’d you get?” Steve asks.

“Nothing much. Chicken and mashed potatoes from the deli.”

Steve helps him plate it and they sit down together at the little table. Bucky bought two servings for each of them, and it only takes minutes until they’re mostly finished. Bucky gnaws at a drumstick while Steve refills their coffee mugs.

“I know you’re scared, Buck,” Steve says. “What can I do to help?”

Bucky looks at Steve, so earnest and sincere. “You’re not going to make me tell someone?”

Steve fixes his eyes on Bucky. “I’m never going to make you do anything.”

“I’m… I’m not ready yet,” he says, hating the way his voice is shaking. “I need a few days to…” To what? he wonders. To be free, even if it’s just for a few more days?

“Whatever you need, Bucky.”

“Just… stick around, you know? In case I get worse?”

Steve nods solemnly. “There’s not a damn thing in this world that could take me away from you. Not now, not ever. We’re gonna get through this.”

Steve is well known for his stubborn streak, and his optimistic belief that he can conquer any foe. But when it comes to Bucky, well, he tends to come out on top more often than not. So Bucky will pin his hopes on this, on the word of Steve Rogers, and let the chips fall where they may.

******  
They fall asleep in front of the television, after Bucky silently cuts his fingernails and files them until there’s no white left at all. Steve wakes with a start to the sound of their front door closing. He’s on his feet in an instant, alert for any sign of an intruder, but there’s no one there. Not even Bucky.

He makes a quick sweep of the apartment. Bucky’s favorite leather jacket is still hanging in the hallway, his leather gloves tucked into the pockets. He counts the guns he finds, and the knives, and lets out a long breath when nothing seems to be missing.

Remembering the morning on the Tower when he found Bucky looking out over the city, Steve slips on his shoes and goes up to the roof of their building. The light of the full moon makes it easy enough to see that Bucky isn’t there, either. 

Steve doesn’t want to believe that he’s gone, not for long, anyway. Bucky had said he wasn’t ready to tell anyone, that he needed some time, and that’s probably what this is about.

But he asked me to stick around, Steve thinks. He wanted me near him, in case something went wrong. So why would he run away? 

Steve wishes he could call Natasha, or even Tony, and get some advice. Better yet, get some backup, someone to keep an eye on Bucky, at least let him know where he is, if he’s okay. But he just told Bucky he wasn’t going to make him do anything, and he wasn’t going to bring anyone else into this. Telling the Avengers that Bucky has gone AWOL, even if he doesn’t mention the weird changes in Bucky, would clearly be a betrayal of that promise.

Steve sits back down in front of the television, mindlessly switching channels. He watches a crime procedural for a while, wincing at the predictable stories. Amazingly, one of the plotlines involves a family whose son has gone missing, but the police won’t let them file a missing persons report until twenty-four hours has gone by. Bullshit, Steve thinks. The worst stuff happens right away. Waiting twenty-four hours will only increase the chances of something terrible happening to your loved one. And yet that’s what Steve is doing, too. Waiting.

*****  
Bucky stumbles back into the apartment in the wee hours of the morning. He’s disoriented, and finds himself in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat with his head in his hands.

He remembers feeling an irresistible need to be outside, and then the urge to run. But now he’s back home. His whole body aches, like he’s been in a fight, but he doesn’t remember fighting.

Bucky gets to his feet and finds some painkillers in a drawer. He swallows a handful down dry and turns to leave the bathroom when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He leans closer, and sticks a metal finger in his mouth, pulling his lips aside to see his teeth.

Holy mother of god. He’s got fangs. 

Bucky staggers backwards and bumps into a shelf, sending shampoo bottles crashing to the floor.

“Buck? Everything okay in there?” 

No, nope, no, definitely not okay in here, Bucky thinks, but he can’t seem to form any words.

“Bucky?” Steve sticks his head into the bathroom, face radiating concern. Bucky hadn’t even closed the door behind him. “I heard you come in.”

Bucky can see Steve struggling not to ask him where he’s been. Damn it, he didn’t mean to run out on him. What the hell is going on?

Steve apparently wins his internal battle, and refrains from chastising Bucky even a little, opting instead for a heartfelt, “You all right, Buck?”

“Yeah, I’m all right.” Bucky grabs the bottles off the floor and puts them back on the shelf, avoiding Steve’s eyes. “Just needed some air. Sorry to worry you.” He tries to keep his mouth closed as much as possible as he speaks. He thinks he might hyperventilate, though, and that would give him away for sure.

Steve’s face softens, and he steps closer, setting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It grounds him, just a little, and he focuses on his breathing.

“It’s okay,” Steve says softly. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” Bucky says. He doesn’t miss the confused look that passes over Steve’s face. He wants to cling to Steve, bury his face against his warm skin and let the world go away, but he’s all too conscious of the freakishly sharp teeth in his mouth and he can’t relax. “Think I’m gonna shower.”

Steve backs up a step, always so considerate when Bucky asks for space, even though part of Bucky wishes that for once he’d push back. 

“Okay, sure,” Steve says, flicking his eyes up and down Bucky’s body, as if reassuring himself that he’s all in one piece, whether or not he’s truly okay. “I’ll, um, I’ll go for a run.”

******  
Steve pounds the pavement so hard it’s a miracle he doesn’t leave cracks in the sidewalk. He knows recovery isn’t linear, knows from his own experience that even when he thinks he’s doing fine, he can have a down day or three for no reason at all. But he doesn’t think that’s what’s going on with Bucky. It’s not a Winter Solider thing, it’s something new, something more that happened to him, and it’s getting worse.

Yesterday Steve thought that at least Bucky was opening up to him about it. Neither one of them seemed to have a clue what was wrong, but at least they were on the same page in their cluelessness. But none of it explained Bucky’s disappearance last night, and the terrified look on his face when Steve found him in the bathroom this morning.

Bucky has that look on his face sometimes when he wakes up from a nightmare. Although they’ve been getting less frequent, it still breaks Steve’s heart every time. But each time Bucky has let Steve hold him, seeming to find comfort in his arms. He doesn’t pull away, not like this morning.

Steve cuts his run short, suddenly certain that whatever is going on, Steve doesn’t want to leave him alone. That’s what Bucky asked for, yesterday, before he disappeared – for Steve to stick around. 

When he gets back to the apartment Bucky is curled up on the sofa with a book.

“Hey, babe.” Steve crosses swiftly to him and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

Bucky startles. “Hey.” There’s a wan smile on his face, and Steve supposes it’s progress. “You stink.”

Steve grins. “Sorry not sorry.” He leans down again and tries for another kiss, but Bucky turns his head to the side, digging his face into Steve’s neck.

“Guess I can live with it,” Bucky mumbles into his skin, his arms coming up to hold Steve tight, his hands bunching in Steve’s t-shirt.

“I was gonna take a shower, but I can stay…” Steve says, trying to gauge Bucky’s reaction.

“Nah, I’m okay. Go get clean.” Bucky lets him go, his eyes flickering up to Steve’s for a moment before he turns back to his book. 

Steve rushes through his shower and is soon joining Bucky on the couch. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just shifts around until he’s curled up, head in Steve’s lap, eyes quickly drifting closed. Steve strokes his head and Bucky hums in appreciation. This position seems to be a favorite of Bucky’s lately. Not that Steve minds, but it’s different. And difference is not a welcome visitor, not when it seems to be imposing itself on Bucky without his consent.

Bucky sleeps nearly all day. Steve orders pizza for them, but Bucky just picks at it, eating all the pepperoni and sausage and leaving most of the rest.

“You could have said, if you didn’t want pizza,” Steve says. Bucky usually isn’t quiet about his desires, not when it comes to food (or sex, for that matter).

“What?” Bucky looks down at his plate, as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, dummy. You want something else?” Steve opens the refrigerator. “Roast beef sandwich?”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Bucky retreats back to the couch, leaving Steve to put away the leftovers. Steve busies himself for a few minutes emptying the dishwasher and going over what he wants to say to Bucky. He’s hoping to get him to agree to talk to someone about this tomorrow. He thinks they should start with Coulson – it’s relevant to their job, frankly, and Bucky probably needs to be evaluated before he can go out on any more missions. If Coulson wants to handle it differently, well, they can discuss it.

But when he returns to the living room, Bucky is fast asleep, and Steve can’t bring himself to wake him. Maybe it’s just a virus, or some form of the flu, and all this sleep is his body’s way of fighting it off. Sleep is good. He’s not going to argue with sleep.

But he’s not going to let Bucky sneak out on him again, either. 

This time when Steve joins Bucky on the couch, and lets him curl up against him, Steve doesn’t go to sleep. And when Bucky wakes up and slips out of the apartment, Steve is close behind.

In the light of the full moon it’s not hard to keep an eye on him, at least for the first few blocks. But then Bucky turns into an alley and by the time Steve gets there, there’s no sign of him. Fire escapes on either side provide possible options as to where he’s gone, but Steve spends hours looking, with no luck.

He traces the path they often take when they run together, and adds a few detours, finally ending up down by the docks. It’s even emptier here than usual, no shifty looking characters staking out their territory. It strikes Steve as odd, but no more odd than everything else that’s been going on.

There’s an abandoned warehouse several blocks in, and when Steve sees a broken window that hasn’t yet been blocked up, he thinks he may have a lead – that, or he’s found the drug dealers newest favorite hiding spot.

He breaks a bit more glass out of the window and carefully steps inside. The first room he comes to is empty, but in the second, there’s a lump under a blanket on the floor that could definitely be a person. Steve’s heart beats hard against his chest. Oh, Bucky, what are you doing here?

Steve walks quietly over and crouches down, but then he freezes, one hand in the air on its way towards Bucky’s head. Because it’s Bucky’s face, but… different. His dark hair now extends down his neck and over his shoulders, and his ears are pointy and covered in a light coating of dark fur. Bucky’s flesh hand is clutching the edge of the blanket, up under his chin, and it’s got dark fur on it, too. And those sharp nails.

Steve has a sudden flashback to finding Bucky in Zola’s Hydra lab, a horrible chorus of _no no no this can’t be happening to Bucky_ running through his head. But Bucky seems to be sleeping peacefully, curled up tight under this ratty blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 

As Steve watches, a long tail flicks out from under the blanket, waves back and forth a few times, and then drifts down over Bucky’s body.

It’s surreal, and Steve can’t quite believe it. But then in the past few years he’s fought with a giant green rage monster, and a god with a mighty hammer, and a man who can shrink himself down to the size of an ant. Not to mention T’Challa, who might have something interesting to say about Bucky’s current situation. 

Steve may be a man out of time, but he’s never been short on brains. If he’s willing to suspend disbelief, it’s clear what has happened to Bucky. He’s a werecat. Werepanther. Leopard? Something big, and strong, and definitely feline. Huh.

Steve lies down on the cold floor next to his friend, his lover, and lets his mind process this information. He doesn’t flinch when Bucky shifts closer to him, as if instinctively seeking his warmth. Bucky’s ears twitch, and then he settles, nuzzling against Steve’s chest. He’s still Bucky. And Steve is still Steve. He’s not going anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky presses closer, not fully awake, but comforted by the smell of Steve all around him. Then he registers the feeling of the scratchy blanket against his naked skin, and tries to remember where he is.

“Hey, Buck. It’s okay.”

Steve is stroking the back of his head, his other arm wrapped around his waist. 

“Steve?” His voice is raspy. “How… how did you get here?”

“Followed you. It’s okay. Breathe.”

“Steve…” Bucky’s throat is dry. The events of the night before come back to him, and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I saw you, after you feel asleep here. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“You – you saw me? With…” Bucky sits up, the blanket falling off his shoulders. With a rush of panic he looks himself over. He’s naked, but there’s no more fur, just pale, goosebumped skin, and his same old metal arm and scarred chest. He twists to look at his ass - thankfully the tail is gone, too.

“Always thought you had some cat-like qualities,” Steve says, pulling off his jacket and giving it to Bucky. “Clever. Graceful. And you’re way hotter than T’Challa.”

“And you’re insane,” Bucky breathes out, struggling into the sweatshirt jacket Steve hands him and zipping it up. He staggers to his feet and finds his clothes and boots in a corner, but he’s shaking uncontrollably, so the whole process is slower than he’d like.

When he’s dressed, he looks back at Steve, who is standing nearby, a placid expression on his face. 

“Come on, say something,” Bucky says, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I was thinking bagels for breakfast? With extra lox?”

Bucky stares at Steve, and then throws his head back, laughing for the first time in what seems like forever. It seems like the only possible reaction to this mess. “You really are insane.”

Steve takes him by the arm and begins walking him out of the building. “I’m not. Big cats like fish, and that bagel place has a two for one deal on Tuesday mornings. Makes perfect sense to me.”

“I can’t be a cat,” Bucky grumbles as he climbs out through the window.

“And I can’t be six foot tall and built like a brick shithouse. But here we are.”

Bucky relaxes as they walk home, Steve’s arm warm around his shoulders. Steve’s not freaking out, not at all. It should surprise Bucky more than it does, but right now all he can do is be thankful for Steve’s presence, and his unwavering ability to remain calm in the face of the unknown.

They find a seat outside their favorite bakery, and Steve goes in to retrieve their breakfast. Bucky grins as he polishes off his first bagel and cream cheese – with extra lox – and starts in on the second one. 

“Told you,” Steve says, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.

“I always liked lox,” Bucky says. 

“Maybe now you like it more,” Steve argues. “We could get salmon for dinner. Grill it in the backyard.”

“That grill has seen better days.”

“Nah, it just needs to be cleaned.”

“I’m not a fan of rust in my dinner.”

They proceed to debate whether the grill is too far gone for a thorough brushing to clean it properly, and Bucky stretches, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his back.

He catches Steve watching him, and suddenly the lighthearted mood is broken. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s not what Bucky was expecting.

“I’m a freak.”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm. “You are no such thing,” he almost spits out, reaching to grab Bucky’s hand. “Come on, time to go home.”

The door to their apartment has hardly closed when Steve presses Bucky up against it, kissing him hard and rough with his hands on either side of his face.

“Wait, Steve-”

Steve pulls back, his eyes blown with lust. “You _are_ beautiful. You are smart, and sexy, and the best person I’ve ever known. And I’d really like to get my hands on you now, if you’re all right with that.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh, because his body is saying _yes, please_ rather emphatically, as it always does, but he’s got to warn Steve first.

“Okay, hot stuff, but look.” He opens his mouth and points out his fangs, pulling back his lips so that Steve can get the full effect. “I’m not sure you really want to-”

Steve cuts off the rest of Bucky’s sentence with his mouth, illustrating rather effectively just how little he cares about Bucky’s new dental situation. In fact, Steve insists on running his tongue over Bucky’s sharp new teeth over and over, even when Bucky tastes the hint of blood in his mouth. 

Bucky finally slows them down, puts a hand on Steve’s face and looks him in the eyes. “You like it, don’t you?”

Steve flushes, but holds his gaze. “What’s not to like?”

Bucky feels his cock throb, and he gets an idea. “Want to feel those teeth all over you, yeah? All around you?”

Steve moans and pushes himself harder against Bucky, trapping him between the door and his chest. Bucky’s hips jerk and he makes a breathy noise against Steve’s mouth. Then Bucky spins them and slams Steve against the door, tugging his shirt off over his head and dragging his mouth down Steve’s body.

“Fuck, Bucky…” Steve’s voice is heavy with desire.

Bucky unzips Steve’s jeans and takes him in his hand, using his mouth and lips to tease until Steve is begging for more. For all Bucky’s bravado, however, he really doesn’t want to hurt Steve, and he goes slowly, sucking Steve down like it’s their first time, focusing hard on not actually letting his fangs interfere.

Steve comes so fast they both laugh out loud, Steve sinking to the floor and pulling Bucky with him, panting and kissing him over and over, open mouthed and messy. 

Just when Bucky thinks he might come in his pants from rutting up against Steve’s thigh, Steve stops him with a hand to his shoulder. “Can we…” Steve inclines his head toward the bedroom. “I’d really like you to fuck me. If you want.” Steve’s voice has gone low, almost shy, as if Bucky would ever deny him anything. 

Bucky loves having sex with Steve. It rips Steve open, and he always lets it, giving himself over to his truest and best self. Steve rarely hides anything from Bucky, but it’s most apparent when they’re together like this. Whether Steve is feeling bold and challenging, or nervous and insecure, he’ll always let Bucky know. And sometimes, like today, his emotions are all over the place. But Bucky will take care of him. It’s what they do. 

They stumble into the bedroom, kissing and touching and stripping off their clothes, and finally collapse on to the bed. Steve looks like a dream underneath him, broad chest heaving, lips red and wet, legs falling apart to let Bucky in. Bucky finds the lube under their pillows and covers his metal fingers, Steve letting out a long sigh as Bucky presses in.

He runs his other hand over Steve’s chest, letting his long nails drag lightly over his skin. Steve is clearly into it, head thrown back and breath coming fast. “Bucky, yes, more,” he pants impatiently, fucking himself down on Bucky’s fingers. “Come on, come on.”

Bucky pulls out and lines himself up. He means to take it slow, but Steve disagrees, and grabs his ass to hurry him along. Soon Bucky is thrusting in and out with a punishing rhythm, Steve urging him on, both of them moving together faster and faster. Bucky gets a hand between them and strokes Steve over and over.

“Yes, Bucky, ah, ah, yes.”

Bucky’s moaning in agreement, his orgasm rapidly approaching, and he gives a few more tugs on Steve’s cock before it hits him, crashing over him like a tidal wave. Steve’s coming too, and they shudder against each other, Bucky dropping down on Steve as Steve’s arms come around him, holding him so tight Bucky can hardly catch his breath.

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky says. He flops over and takes Steve with him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s back and letting him burrow into his sweaty chest. “I’m right here. We’re okay.” Bucky runs his hands over Steve’s damp skin, and threads his fingers into Steve’s hair.

After a few minutes, Steve hoists himself up and sits back on his knees. He rubs his hand over his face, and then leans down and gives Bucky a sweet kiss, sedate in contrast to what they’ve just been through.

“I may not be as calm about this as I seemed,” he says bashfully, tracing a finger over Bucky’s chest. “I think we need to talk about it.”

“I know.” Bucky sits up and kisses Steve in return, a hand on the back of his head to hold him in place. “Clean up first?”

******  
Steve feels a little less off balance after a shower. Bucky takes a turn after him, and soon they’re both sitting on the couch, Bucky’s wet hair dripping onto his green henley. Steve pulls him in for a hug, needing to make sure it’s clear from the outset how he feels about this whole situation. “Love you, Buck,” he breathes out.

“Love you too, Steve.”

Steve lets go, and Bucky pulls his feet up underneath him, cross-legged, and faces Steve.

“So we have two issues to discuss,” Bucky begins, sounding somehow like Natasha impersonating Coulson. “One, what the hell. And two, what the hell do I do.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, and Bucky shakes his head. “What do _we_ do, yes, thank you Captain America, I know we’re a team, end of the line, blah blah blah.”

Steve grins, and Bucky shoves him with his metal shoulder, and Steve’s heart flutters. He doesn’t think it’s possible to love this man any more than he does, but every so often the heft of his emotions just inches up a notch. 

“I think you’ve summed it up very well.” Steve takes Bucky’s hand, noting that he’s filed the nails down to nubs again. “You’re shapeshifting at the full moon, into… a cat? Panther, maybe?”

Bucky nods. “Far as I can tell. Didn’t have a mirror or anything.”

“Black fur,” Steve says. “Very pretty.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, lips pressed tight together.

“Any chance there’s a patch of white somewhere, on your belly maybe? ‘Cause that would be really cute-”

“Steve,” Bucky groans.

“Sorry. It’s just… easier to laugh about it.” Steve studies Bucky’s face, and can’t help putting his hand to his cheek and stroking with his thumb. Bucky leans into the touch, then pulls back with a sigh.

“Then there’s the teeth, and the nails, and the ears.”

“The ears?” Steve asks.

“You haven’t noticed?” Bucky pulls his hair back, and Steve gasps.

“Holy crap, how did I not see that? I saw they were pointy when you were… changed.. but I didn’t realize they were still…” He reaches out with a finger. “Can I?”

At Bucky’s nod, Steve touches Bucky’s ear, still human-shaped, but with a little elvish point at the top that definitely wasn’t there before. He looks at the other one, which is of course the same, and swallows hard.

They stare at each other for a long moment. 

“When you changed, Buck, did you, um… do anything?” Steve hadn’t wanted to ask – he had almost decided that if Bucky had hurt someone, he would have said something. Not to mention that it would have set his recovery back a few years, and that probably would have been noticeable. But he’s glad he asked, when Bucky answers, looking scared but relieved to have the topic out in the open.

“No. Not that I know of. And I think… I was still me, all the time, you know? I knew what I was doing. So I would have known.”

A wave of relief washes over Steve. “Yeah? That’s good.” He lets out a long breath. “So you didn’t turn, um, completely into a panther or something?”

Bucky looks like he’s going to be sick, but he powers through. “No. Just what you saw.”

“That’s probably good, then.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

Steve reaches out and takes Bucky’s hand and gives it a squeeze, and they just sit for a long moment, staring at the floor. At least Bucky is still him when it happens, Steve thinks. It’s not like having his mind wiped again, his self taken from him. Steve isn’t sure what it would do to Bucky if that happened, if it was going to happen over and over again at every full moon, but it couldn’t possibly be good.

Bucky raises his head and meets Steve’s gaze, and Steve figures he’s ready to go on.

“So, part two. You want to tell someone?” Might as well rip off the band aid.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, although Steve can tell it pains him to say it. “I was thinking Coulson?”

Steve nods. “I agree. He’s very level-headed.”

“But…” Bucky trails off, looking down at his lap, and then back up at Steve. “Are you sure you trust him? I mean, SHIELD hasn’t exactly had a shining track record lately. And as cool of a cucumber as he is…”

He’s still the government. Steve has had the same thought. “Maybe we need to tell someone besides Coulson first. See what we can find out, and then go from there.”

“Like who?”

“Someone who would never fall to Hydra. And who has plenty of resources of his own.”

Steve can tell when Bucky figures out who he’s suggesting, and he halfway thinks Bucky’s gonna hit him. 

“He tried to kill me, Steve. And you too.”

“That’s over.”

“Is it?”

Steve looks at Bucky’s arm, a shining tribute to the genius of one Tony Stark, and thinks about Tony’s determination to find out more about the Winter Solider. And the look on Tony’s face when Tony told him about seeing one of the Hydra bases where Bucky had been held. “Yeah, pal. It is.”

*****  
There’s just one problem with Steve’s plan; by the time they’ve gotten it worked out, it’s almost sundown. They call Tony, give him the barest overview of what’s going on, and set a time to meet the next day; they’re not going to get together after dark tonight, not when the moon is still full.

“But is it full again?” Bucky asks, pacing the living room with his hands wrapped around his waist. “How many nights does this crap last?” Bucky feels itchy all over, like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. But he’s got no idea whether it’s a werecreature thing or just run of the mill recovering brainwashed assassin anxiety.

“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve says tiredly. “I mean, I googled phases of the moon, but I have no idea how it relates to…” he waves his hand vaguely at Bucky.

Bucky sighs and plops down on the sofa next to Steve. He knows Steve is doing his best in what is beyond a doubt an incredibly disturbing situation. “I’m sorry. I know we’ve been over this. But I just wish I knew if anything was gonna happen tonight.”

“Yesterday was the… fullest full moon. But in some of the stories we found, werecreatures change for three nights.” 

“Yeah, and in some of them, they only completely change for one.” Bucky is hoping for this option.

“So I guess we’re just going to have to wait and see.”

“Stop being so patient,” Bucky grumbles, standing up and resuming his pacing. “This sucks.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Steve says, sitting up on the edge of the couch.

“Really? What part of changing into a cat isn’t weird as hell?” And weird is the most generous way to describe it, Bucky thinks.

Steve ignores Bucky’s outburst and goes on. “You don’t have to go anywhere. You definitely don’t have to hide in a warehouse with a blanket of questionable origins as your only comfort.”

Bucky considers this, and something in his chest relaxes. “You think I can just stay home?”

Steve shrugs. “Did you leave the first two nights because you _had_ to, or were you trying to hide?

Bucky leans against the kitchen island and rubs his eyes. “A little of both, maybe? The first night I definitely remember wanting to be outside, like staying in was suffocating me. But I was also really scared.” His voice drops off, as the words come out without his really meaning to say them.

“Hey, I get it,” Steve says, coming over and putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “But we know what to expect now. And you don’t have to hide from me.” Steve squeezes at the join between his neck and his shoulder, which is so tense it aches, and Bucky leans his forehead against Steve’s. “And if you want to go out and run, with or without me, that’s cool. Just come back here as soon as you can. Whatever shape you’re in.”

Bucky wants to say yes, but he’s not sure it’s that easy. “Sure. I’ll just come in the front door, naked and half covered in fur.”

“Bucky. Two words.”

Bucky looks at Steve, who is poker faced as ever. “What?”

“Fire escape.”

That night after dinner Bucky puts on an old pair of sweatpants and climbs into bed with Steve, who’s fully dressed. They leave the lights on. Neither of them is really sleeping. Steve’s been stroking his hand up and down Bucky’s back for so long, Bucky thinks he might be getting a rash. He shifts around and pulls Steve halfway on to his chest, burying his face in his hair.

Steve kisses him softly, nibbling ever so gently at his collarbone, and then rests his face on Bucky’s skin with a sigh. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Did it hurt?”

Bucky has a sudden memory of seeing Steve all super-serumed for the first time, tall and broad shouldered, and asking him the same question. “Did you tell me the truth when I asked you?”

Steve pushes up, finding Bucky’s eyes. “Can we go with ‘I don’t remember?’”

Bucky laughs. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Steve shrugs. “Sue me.” He sits up, the blanket sliding off his body, and wraps his arms around his waist. “Yeah, it hurt. A lot. So much I couldn’t tell what it was doing to me, it just freaking hurt. But it didn’t take too long, and when it was over, it didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing did.”

“Did you feel different?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Physically, anyway. I could take deeper breaths, I could run so fast… my whole body felt energized, compared to how it used to be.” He smiles, looking almost shy. “And it was really cool to be taller. That felt great.”

Bucky reaches out and plays with the collar of Steve’s flannel shirt, taking this in. They’ve never really talked about this. During the war they’d been so busy just trying to stay alive – and besides, talking about their feelings wasn’t something boys in the 40’s were supposed to do. Of course, sticking their hands down each other’s pants wasn’t something boys in the 40’s were supposed to do, either, and they never paid much attention to that rule.

“I’m glad for you, you know. That it made things better.” That Steve didn’t have to be sick all the time. And feel all those insecurities anymore, the constant need to defend his right to exist as a slender, five foot four man. Bucky lets his hand slide down Steve’s shoulder, pausing at his ample bicep to give it a squeeze. “Not even counting this part.”

Steve gazes at Bucky, and swallows hard. “I would’ve been fine staying the way I was.” He looks away, and then back, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But it is really cool to be taller.” Steve lies back down, turning on his side to face Bucky.

“You never answered my question about you,” Steve says. 

Bucky closes his eyes, and he feels the pressure of Steve’s forehead against his shoulder. “It felt… crazy. Like something that just couldn’t be happening. Like there was something in my chest that just started spreading from the inside out and changing everything as it moved through me, pushing through my entire body, shifting every part of me. By the time it was done, I was… different.”

Bucky opens his eyes, and Steve looks back at him, blue eyes wide. “Oh, Bucky.”

“It hurt a little. Not too much. But mostly it was just disturbing as fuck.”

Steve studies him intently, until Bucky has to look away.

“I’m so sorry. That this is happening to you,” Steve says, barely above a whisper. “That it’s probably gonna happen again.”

“Yeah.” Bucky feels his throat swell up, and he swallows hard, holding back the tears. After all his pathetic body has been through, he can’t believe he’s in for more. It just doesn’t seem fair.

Steve pulls him into a tight hug, and Bucky digs his face into his neck. At least he’s got Steve, this time around. At least he’s got Steve.

******

They sleep in fits and starts, never for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time, until Steve rolls over and pokes Bucky in the chest, startling him out of his doze.

“Hey… what?”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning.”

“Awesome,” Bucky mutters, turning away from Steve.

“No, listen. It’s three-thirty in the morning, and you haven’t changed. I think you’re safe for tonight.”

Bucky sits up, looks at the clock, and then picks up the comforter and looks at his body. He can’t help the sigh of relief at the distinct lack of fur.

Steve pats him on the butt. “No tail.” 

Bucky fake glares at him over his shoulder. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

Steve’s eyes flare wide. “That you don’t have to go through that tonight? Of course not.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, and wiggles his ass suggestively under Steve’s hand. “Not even a little?”

Steve flushes and digs his head into Bucky’s back. He doesn’t speak for a minute, but then mumbles, “I’m a terrible person. I’m sorry.”

Bucky shrugs. “Just glad there’s a silver lining.” 

Steve groans. “I’m going to hell, aren’t I?”

“You said it, not me,” Bucky says. “Long as I can come with you, I don’t much care where you go.”

“Hmm, you can come anywhere with me,” Steve says, wiggling an eyebrow. He’s going for seductive, Bucky thinks, or at least half-asleep Steve’s best attempt at it, but the effect is ruined when Steve’s sentence ends with a broad yawn. 

“Get back here and go to sleep,” Bucky says, lying down on his back and opening his arms for Steve to join him.

“Fine. But we’re revisiting this conversation in the morning,” Steve mumbles. 

“Whatever you say, stud.”

Steve snorts into the side of Bucky’s head. “’Night, Buck. Love you.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

*****  
The next morning, after exchanging extremely satisfying blowjobs in the shower, they get dressed and head over to Avengers Tower.

Bucky’s doing the layering thing again, Steve notices – a t-shirt, a henley, a hooded jacket, and a leather jacket on top of it all. Plus his leather gloves. It reminds him of how Bucky used to cover himself up when he first got to New York, freshly out of cryo and so, so nervous about how everyone would react to him. 

At least Bucky pushes the hood down when they get into the elevator, and Steve reaches over to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. His pointy ear. Bucky growls at him and puts the hood back up. 

Tony’s in the lab when they get there. 

“Morning, wonder twins,” he says, looking up from his work and spinning towards them on a stool. “There’s coffee if you want it.”

“Something happened to me, and I need you to check it out,” Bucky bursts out, before Steve can even politely decline Tony’s offer.

Tony puts up his hands. “I got that much from our conversation yesterday,” he says. 

“Before we say anything else-” Steve starts, a hand on Bucky’s arm.

“Got that part too,” Tony says. “No one’s listening in right now. Nothing’s being recorded. It’s just us.” 

“Not even Jarvis?”

“He’s passively monitoring our vital signs, and will come back online if there are any life-threatening changes. But otherwise, no, it’s just us.”

Tony’s being as professional as Steve as ever seen him, and Steve could almost kiss him for it. Apparently he can feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of Bucky as well as Steve can.

Tony gets up and moves towards the side of the lab, where there’s a small couch and two comfortable chairs, delivered a few months ago at Bruce’s request in an attempt to give Tony a place to crash that he might actually make use of. “Come on, sit down.”

Bucky sits stiffly in one of the chairs, and Tony perches himself on the couch end nearest to him. It doesn’t surprise Steve – Bucky’s focused on himself right now, trying to stay calm, and he doesn’t want Steve petting him in the process. He’s fine with taking the other chair and letting Bucky lead.

“Give me the overview, and then we’ll go back for the details,” Tony suggests, when Bucky doesn’t immediately start talking.

“I think I’m a werewolf,” Bucky says. “Werecat, actually, not a wolf. But same idea.”

Tony’s mouth falls open, uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. “Huh. That’s new. Um, what makes you think so?”

Bucky bares his teeth, and Tony looks in close. “They look sharp,” he comments. Then Bucky shows him his ears, and his nails, already grown out longer overnight.

“Okay… I’m guessing there’s more?”

Bucky fixes his eyes on a point somewhere over Tony’s shoulder, and tells him about how the full moon called to him, and how his body changed two nights ago.

There’s silence, then Steve speaks up. “I saw him, Tony. Two nights ago, I followed him.”

“Did you, um, take any pictures?” 

Steve shakes his head. “No. And I’m glad I didn’t, I wouldn’t want those to get out.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, okay. But it would help to know more.”

Steve proceeds to describe what he saw, the soft fur covering the back of Bucky’s body, how his ears had tufts of fur on them… the tail.

Bucky avoids his eyes for the whole conversation, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. 

“He looked pretty cute,” Steve adds, hoping to get a grin out of Bucky.

He does, complete with an eye roll, so at least there’s that. But Tony puts an end to his lightened mood with his next question.

“Barnes… not to be indelicate, but, um, did you _do_ anything?”

Bucky turns to Tony, a low growl in his throat, and Steve barely stops himself from saying “not yet.”

“No, I didn’t attack anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tony raises his hands in apology. “I had to ask. Werewolf – er, werecat, and all. Kinda not known for their pacifist tendencies.”

“Leave it, Tony,” Steve says. “We’ve been over it.” 

Steve can practically see the steam coming out of Bucky’s ears, but he calms down a bit as Tony continues asking him less fraught questions. Bucky tells him about his trouble sleeping, and his enhanced night vision. Tony presses them to remember when the changes started, and then stands up and stalks around the room. “I knew it,” he says, and flicks his hand to pull up a computer screen.

“Knew what?”

Tony comes back over, flipping through holographic screens until he finds what he’s looking for.

“The awful smelling smoke bombs? From the day in the rainforest with the robots? Bucky must have breathed some in.”

Steve shoots an accusing glance at Bucky, who is shaking his head vigorously. 

“I put on the fucking mask, Steve. I did.”

“The whole time?”

The look on Bucky’s face is answer enough, and Steve gets up, crouching next to him and putting his hands on his knees. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It was so fucking hot. It kept sliding around… I couldn’t breathe.” Bucky’s angry, and upset, and Steve doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t deserve this shit.

“It’s okay, Buck. It’s okay. Now that we know what caused it, we can figure out how to fix it. Right?” Steve looks at Tony, who is engrossed in the data on his screen.

“Tony? We can fix it, right? Counteract the poison?”

Tony turns back to them. “Ordinarily I’d say sure. I mean, you know, I can fix anything.”

Steve feels a chill settle at the base of his spine. “What do you mean?”

Tony waves his arm at the screen. “I tried to analyze this crap right after the mission. But it’s got stuff in it I’ve never seen before.”

Bucky abruptly stands up, pushes past Steve and heads for the door. “Great, thanks for your help.”

“Wait, Bucky.” Steve moves in front of him, blocking his way.

“Yeah, slow down, Barnes. Geez, try to be honest with a person and they give up on you so fast, give me a break will you?”

Bucky doesn’t turn around, but he does stop. He’s got his head tilted so his long hair is covering his face, and his shoulders are curved in tight. Steve can practically feel the tension rolling off of him.

“Let me run some tests, do some scans, see what’s going on. I think I know someone that might be able to help if I can send her some information.” Tony comes closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. “If it’s okay with you. Nothing invasive, just take some blood and some swabs. I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Steve says. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Tony lets out a long breath. “If I can’t tell anyone, I can’t get their input.”

“Do you trust her? This person?” Bucky looks at Tony.

“I do.” Tony turns to Steve. “You know her. Helen.”

“Dr. Cho? I thought she was retired.” Dr. Cho hasn’t been around much lately, apparently disturbed enough by the events around the Sekovia Accords that she had pulled back from Avengers business.

Tony shrugs. “Just because she doesn’t want to work for SHIELD doesn’t mean she won’t help us. You did save her life, Cap.”

Bucky looks up through his hair. “Another one, Steve? Did she kiss you, too?”

Steve blushes, but at least Bucky isn’t fleeing. “No. Think she had a crush on Thor, though.”

Tony grins and rubs his chin. “Maybe I can get Thor to stop by. I could ask him to bring Jane – she’d be a lot more useful where our actual problem is concerned,” he glances back at the holographic screen, “although that wouldn’t do anything for the whole Dr. Cho/Thor setup.”

“How about we limit it to Dr. Cho for now?” Steve suggests. “I do think we can trust her, Buck. And she’s really, really smart.”

Tony hums in agreement. “That she is.” He turns to Bucky. “Well, what do you say? Shall we get started?”

*****  
When they get back from their meeting with Tony, Bucky goes straight into the bathroom and closes the door, not coming out for over an hour. When he does, his hair is wet and dripping on to his shoulders, but he’s got clean clothes on, and doesn’t look nearly as panicky as he had for most of the day.

Steve tries not to jump on him the minute he sees him, but Bucky comes up behind him as he stands at the kitchen island, wrapping his hands around Steve’s waist. Bucky presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck, and he shivers all over.

Steve turns his head, searching for Bucky’s lips, and they kiss softly. Bucky smells like Steve’s shampoo.

“You okay, Buck?”

A frown crosses Bucky’s face, and Steve cringes internally. Bucky didn’t want him to ask, he just wanted to forget for a little while.

“I’m fine.” Bucky lets go of Steve and opens the refrigerator, staring inside. “We don’t have any food.”

Steve laughs. “We have the same food we always have.” He reaches out and closes the refrigerator door. “How about we order some pizza and watch a movie?”

Bucky looks at him gratefully – as if this is a brilliant new plan, not the way they spend a significant fraction of their evenings together – and slinks off to the couch to wait for Steve to join him. 

“Mushroom and bacon?” Steve asks. It’s Bucky’s latest topping combination. Bucky nods, and Steve quickly places the call, getting a sausage pizza for himself, and some mozzarella sticks. He hesitates over the garlic bread until he remembers garlic is a vampire thing, not a werecreature thing, and orders an extra large, with cheese.

Bucky is restless as they wait for the food to arrive, not curling up on Steve’s lap as he had expected. And they can’t decide on a movie. There’s a cooking show challenging its participants to create something with kumquats and baby kale, and they stare the television for a while, not really paying it much attention.

When the pizza comes Bucky eats one slice, then picks the bacon off a second one. Steve silently picks the sausage off of his pizza and puts it on Bucky’s plate, and Bucky eats it piece by piece. Only when they are finished does Bucky lick his fingers clean, paying special attention to his long fingernails, and curl up, his head on Steve’s lap.

Steve lays his hand gently on Bucky’s head, stroking his fingers through his hair. He can see Bucky’s pointy ear, but he doesn’t comment.

It’s been a rough day, and unless Tony and Dr. Cho come up with some miraculous solution, there will be more ahead. Steve wishes he knew what to do.

******  
Bucky knows Tony is a genius, and he figures this Dr. Cho might be too, but he isn’t holding out any hope for a cure. Not with the way Tony reacted, setting their expectations so low from the get go. It’s not like Tony to downplay his capacity for greatness, not without some pretty serious cause.

When two weeks go by without hearing anything constructive from him, Bucky tries to stop thinking about his situation as anything but permanent.

Dr. Cho texts him, asking if she can meet with him in person to run some more tests, and Bucky ignores her. He knows Steve got the same text – he was cc’d – but Steve doesn’t call him on it.

The next day, Tony sends a picture to him and Steve in their group text. Bucky opens it without thinking, and sees a black fluffball with big eyes staring out at him.

He hears Steve snort from the bedroom, and goes in to find him standing in front of a basket of laundry with his phone in his hand.

“It’s that cat, Gimo,” Steve says. “She’s Korean. Clint told me about her, but I’ve never been into the cats on the Internet thing.” Steve looks back at the photo, and his face falls. When he meets Bucky’s eyes again, Bucky feels awful at the concern he can see on Steve’s face, as if a picture of cat that looks more like a tribble would be enough to put Bucky over the edge.

The caption Tony has added claims this is how Dr. Cho looks, while waiting for Bucky to answer her text.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Steve says, reading Bucky’s mind.

“But,” Bucky says.

Steve frowns. “But what?”

“You can say it. There has to be a ‘but.’”

“No buts,” Steve says seriously. “You can fill in the blanks as well as I can. If you don’t want any more tests, that’s fine.”

There’s a pause, and Bucky thinks Steve might actually leave it there. He should have known better.

“But you could ask her what the tests would involve, and what she hopes to find out. More information is always better, right?”

“They can’t fix it, Steve. If they could, we’d know already.”

Steve comes over and pulls him into a hug, tolerating the stiff way Bucky falls against him. “That’s okay then. We’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

Steve pulls back to look at Bucky. “I’m sure.” Steve nuzzles against Bucky’s neck, then nips at his earlobe. “’Specially if the tail comes back.”

It’s become a running joke between them, and somehow Bucky doesn’t mind. If he had to turn into an animal, at least it’s one that Steve seems to have a thing for. 

And despite his sour mood since they let Tony examine him, one thing is certain – the sex has been great. Steve seems to love stroking the shape of Bucky’s pointy ears, and running his hand down Bucky’s back until he arches it in pleasure. Not to mention the things Bucky can do with his teeth, and his nails, although just for general safety purposes he files them down at least once a day. 

Bucky feels himself responding a little differently, too. His muscles feel more languid, and he can stretch and twist in new ways. Plus his tongue seems to have developed a mind of its own. He can’t get enough of tasting Steve everywhere, and he tastes even more enticing than he used to.

It’s weird, no doubt, but he’s not about to question the one silver lining that seems to have come out of this whole mess.

Bucky’s breath is coming faster as Steve crowds into his space, shuffling them until they are up against the wall, Steve’s elbows braced on either side of Bucky’s head, and his hips pressing rhythmically against Bucky’s.

Then their phones both ring with the emergency Avengers ringtone.

“Again?” Steve groans, and Bucky ducks out under his arm and finds Steve’s phone where it has dropped on the floor, tossing it to him easily.

“It’s like Coulson can tell when you’re about to put your dick in me,” Bucky says. “What’s he got against us, anyway?”

Steve adjusts himself in his pants and shakes his head. “I don’t know, but we need to get him a girl. Or a guy. Somebody to occupy him.”

“Definitely. Then we’ll stalk him and create a crisis just as he’s about to score. Sounds like a plan.”

Steve frowns at Bucky. “We’ve got a problem.”

Bucky looks up. “I’m kidding, Steve. I would never do that.” He grins. “To Tony, maybe. But not to Coulson.”

“No, dope, that’s not what I mean.” Steve nods at his phone. “They want us at the Tower by nightfall. But we haven’t told them about you.”

Bucky bristles. “I’m fine.”

Steve tilts his head at him, but Bucky isn’t in the mood for it.

“Honestly, Steve, I’m perfectly able to fight bad guys. Better than usual, considering how well I can see in the dark now. We don’t need to tell anyone.”

Steve clearly disagrees. “I don’t like going into a battle with less than complete information. It isn’t fair to our teammates, or to you.”

“Not fair? Gee, I wouldn’t want anything unfair to happen to me. Christ, Steve, listen to yourself.” Bucky shoves past Steve and opens the closet, pulling his tac gear out.

“Tony already knows, it wouldn’t be that big a deal to tell the rest of the team-”

“No. No fucking way.” Bucky’s trying not to yell it, but everything in him is screaming to keep this secret. “I’m not telling anyone else. It’s private.” That usually works with Steve, but the stubborn bastard won’t back off.

“You said you were going to tell people,” Steve insists.

“To get help. And I did – I told Tony, and he told that doctor, and they’ve got nothing. They can’t help me, Steve.” He hears his voice rising again, and he swallows hard. “And I’m not risking telling anyone else.”

“Bucky-”

“You gonna tattle on me?” he hisses. “What happened to it being my choice?”

Steve pales, and the conversation is over.

******  
The mission is a disaster. Well, not a total disaster – they all come out relatively unscathed, although Clint is limping and Natasha is so angry she might actually be burning up vital organs.

“What the hell was going on with you tonight, Steve?” she asks when they get back to the Tower, venom in her voice. “You don’t get your head out of your ass, you’re going to get us all killed.”

And that’s the worst of it, Bucky thinks. His own performance hadn’t suffered tonight – not much, anyway. He is right that his skills are even sharper than usual, his vision clear and penetrating, his reflexes amped up and accurate. But Steve was distracted, and it was Bucky’s fault.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Steve says again, going to the kitchen in the common area and getting an ice pack out of the freezer for Clint. “I let you down, I know it.”

Natasha sighs, not quite ready to relent but taken down, as always, by Steve’s genuine remorse. Clint takes the ice pack from Steve and looks at him appraisingly.

“Anything wrong, Cap?”

Steve’s faces closes up, and Bucky can tell how much effort it is taking him not to glance over to where Bucky is lounging against the couch. “No, I’m fine.”

It’s a bald-faced lie, but their friends let it pass.

They excuse themselves a few minutes later. Steve is silent as they take the elevator down and climb into the cab Jarvis has called for them, resisting Bucky’s efforts at small talk. He doesn’t speak until they are in their own apartment, and then it’s only a bare minimum – who’s taking the first shower, please turn off the light when you’re done.

Bucky’s heart is aching, but he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t just give in to Steve on this. The thought of anyone else knowing, when even Tony can’t cure him… his sense of self-preservation just won’t let him. SHIELD may think of itself as new and improved, free from Hydra’s influence, but it’s still a government entity, and in Bucky’s experience governments don’t do right by people who are different. He’s already been poked and prodded, examined within an inch of his life, and put into a classification the world finds only barely acceptable; he’s not about to give them a reason to change their minds.

Bucky climbs into bed beside Steve. Steve is facing away from him, and doesn’t move as he slides closer. Bucky knows he’s only pretending to be asleep.

Bucky reaches out a hand, lays it down on Steve’s shoulder, but Steve wordlessly shrugs it off. It’s like a punch to the gut.

He lies there for hours, curled on his side, Steve’s bulk in front of him. Even if Steve won’t talk to him, at least Bucky can still watch his back.

******  
Steve wakes up the next day feeling like crap, and it’s not because of the mission the night before. Bucky is already out of bed. Steve expects to find him on the couch, or at the kitchen table, dozing in the sun with a cup of coffee, but he’s not there either.

Steve pushes down the panic that washes over him when he realizes Bucky is gone, noting that his favorite combat boots are still by the front door where he kicked them off last night. He checks the closet, and Bucky’s sneakers are missing. He’s just gone for a run, then. He’ll be back.

Bucky is out all morning, and by lunchtime, Steve is tight with worry. He ceases his pacing and forces himself to sit down, scrolling through meaningless stories on the web. He checks his phone obsessively, and his email, but Bucky’s on radio silence. Then he sees an email from Dr. Cho:

_Steve – I’m heading home to Seoul, but I’ll be back in a few weeks to see Bucky again. I know he’s disappointed, but his plan sounds reasonable to me. Feel free to reach out if anything comes up in the meantime. Stay safe. Helen._

Steve’s baffled, but he doesn’t have much time to try to decipher her message before the door opens and Bucky comes inside. He looks wrecked, damp hair in strands around his face, his long sleeved shirt soaked through with sweat.

“Bucky…” Steve is across the room and wrapping his arms around Bucky before Bucky even takes off his sneakers.

“Steve-” Bucky squirms in his arms, “I’m gross, you don’t wanna-”

“I do, I do,” Steve insists, holding Bucky tight. “I’m so sorry about last night, that was awful of me.” Because it was. Withholding touch from Bucky is pretty much the most awful thing he can remember doing since letting him fall from the train, and Steve is sick with it. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, digging his face into Bucky’s neck. “There’s no excuse.”

Bucky slowly relaxes against him, and his arms come up to wrap around his waist. “It was pretty mean,” he says softly, as if he’s afraid to say it, and Steve’s heart plummets into his stomach.

“I know.” Steve pulls back and pushes Bucky’s hair out of his face, trying to catch his eyes. The blue he loves so much is rimmed in red, and Steve is sure he couldn’t possibly feel worse. “Even if I was mad at you, I shouldn’t have acted that way. I won’t do it again.”

He kisses Bucky, barely brushing his lips against his, and pulls back again, watching his face.

“Can you forgive me?”

Bucky’s eyes close, and he leans his forehead against Steve’s cheek. “’Course I forgive you, punk. I’m a handful. Not surprised you got mad at me. Just surprised you haven’t kicked me out yet.” His voice is still soft, cracked with pain, and Steve thinks he’s not really joking.

“Bucky, I’m never gonna kick you out. Not ever, no matter how mad I get. Please tell me you know that,” he pleads.

Bucky shrugs in Steve’s arms. “You don’t want me to be a… cat-thing, and I don’t want to fix it. How long you gonna put up with that?”

“Bucky…” Steve can recognize when Bucky’s blowing things out of proportion, but it doesn’t make him feel like any less of a heel for getting them into this position. “Neither of those things is true. Come on.” He jostles him a little bit, and rubs his hand up and down over his back. “You can be a cat-thing forever as far as I’m concerned. And I know you want to fix it, you’re just scared.”

Bucky shivers and clings tighter to Steve. “I don’t want them to take me away.”

Steve doesn’t ask him to be more specific, his meaning is perfectly clear. “Never gonna let that happen, Buck. Never.”

They stand there together for a few long moments, until Steve has to wipe his face to keep Bucky’s sweaty hair from poking him in the eye, and Bucky releases his hold. 

“Gonna let me shower now?” Bucky asks, a thread of humor winding its way back into his voice.

“Probably a good idea.” Steve lets him go slowly, running his hands down Bucky’s arms as he steps back. “I’ll make us some lunch?”

Bucky nods and leaves the room, and Steve sags back against the kitchen island with a sigh. 

Over grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup (from a can, it’s perfectly fine) Steve tells Bucky about Dr. Cho’s message. His eyes flick up to Steve’s, then he looks away, pulling the sleeves of his henley down over his wrists.

“Told her I wanted to wait until after the next one. See if it happened again.”

“After the full moon?” Steve asks, swallowing hard.

“Yeah. That okay with you?” Bucky challenges.

“Of course, Bucky. It’s fine.” Steve thinks about what Dr. Cho said. “Seems like a reasonable approach. Scientific method, and all that.”

Bucky relaxes, now that he sees Steve isn’t going to argue with him. “What the hell do you know about the scientific method?”

Steve grins. “About as much as you, I imagine.”

“You’re an ass.”

“But I’m your ass,” Steve retorts.

“I don’t know about that. But your ass is mine.”

“That’s what I said,” Steve responds, wiggling his eyebrows.

But Bucky deflates, shaking his head as he carries his dishes to the sink. “Sorry, pal, I’m beat.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Well, he did, maybe, just a little, but that’s hardly the point. “Leave those, I’ll do ‘em later. Go get some shut eye.”

Bucky complies, opening his mouth to say something to Steve, but then closing it again. Steve’s heart clenches in his chest, because he knows what Bucky was about to say.

“Okay if I join you? I might not have run a marathon this morning, but a nap sounds good.”

Bucky looks gratefully at him, and then ducks his head. “Sure.”

Bucky climbs into bed first and Steve follows, curving his body to fit around Bucky’s back, his hand draped over his waist, palm spread against Bucky’s flat stomach.

Bucky is stiff, and Steve pulls him closer, tangling their legs together. “I love you, Buck. Serious as a heart attack. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Bucky takes Steve’s arm and pulls it up, pressing his face against his hand. “Love you too, Steve.”

Steve is beat, too – it’s not like he got any sleep last night either – but he stays awake until he hears Bucky’s breathing even out. They’re doing okay, he thinks, most of the time. But he’s got to do better. This is the most important challenge of his life. He’ll never get another chance to love Bucky – he can’t screw it up again.

******  
Life returns to normal for the next few weeks, or at least normal for two super soldiers wondering if one of them is going to turn into a giant cat again.

As the full moon approaches, Bucky becomes hyperaware of his body. He’s trying to catalogue everything he’s feeling, to figure out whether it means he’s going to turn or not. It makes him jumpy. Of course, maybe that’s a cat thing, too.

Luckily they don’t get sent on any more missions. Bucky wonders if Coulson knows that something is up, or if he’s just trying to give them a break. He’s hoping it’s the latter – it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Steve wasn’t up to snuff the last time they went out, and as much as Bucky hates to shift the blame for all this to Steve, it’s a good cover for now.

The morning of the first full moon, Steve makes them a hearty brunch, heavy on protein. Bucky laughs when he sees the piles of sausage and bacon in platters on the table, a giant ham and cheese omelet frying in the pan.

“Expecting company?” he asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Steve ducks his head, embarrassed. “Just thought you might be hungry.”

“It’s great,” Bucky says, nuzzling a kiss against Steve’s neck. “Thank you.”

After their meal Bucky goes back to bed, and it isn’t long before Steve is curled up behind him. 

“You don’t need to do that, I’m fine,” Bucky says.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Steve replies.

When Bucky wakes up, it’s to a tingling in his blood, and an itchy feeling under his skin. He takes a long, hot, shower, trying to calm himself down, but it isn’t working. 

He wraps himself in a towel and looks in the mirror. Do his eyes look a little almond shaped? Is there a tinge of green in the blue? When he changes this time, will it be the same as last month, or will he become an actual man-sized panther?

Steve is waiting for him in the bedroom when he comes out. “How can I help?”

But it’s becoming harder for Bucky to talk about it. The words won’t come. All he can do is shrug helplessly.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, coming over and pulling Bucky into a loose hug. “It’s okay.” He pulls back and hands Bucky the loose sweats and zip-up jacket they had put aside a few days ago. “Remember what we talked about. Stay here, as long as you can. And if you want to go out and run, that’s fine too. Just come back before you fall asleep.”

Bucky nods. Stay with Steve. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do.

The night wears on, and the tingling intensifies. For a while they sit on the couch, then Bucky gets up and paces, returning to sit on the floor and lean his head against Steve’s knees. Every once in a while Steve hands him a glass of water, or an energy bar, which he consumes without thought.

Bucky only realizes he’s dozed off when he comes to, Steve’s fingers gently stroking through his hair. His hand flies to his head and down his body – no fur. No tail.

He looks up at Steve, who smiles down at him encouragingly. “Just like last month, then,” he says quietly. “You don’t change the first night. Just the second one – and maybe not at all.”

Steve stands up and offers Bucky his hand, pulling him close when he stands up. “I’m exhausted. Want to go to bed?” 

Bucky nods, and so they do.

Day two is different. Bucky can tell from the minute he wakes up. The daylight coming through the window almost hurts his eyes, and when he looks around the room, every detail is sharp and clear. The tingling in his blood has been erased by a fervent need to stretch his limbs, to run until he can’t go any further. It should be upsetting, but the part of his brain that hasn’t been entirely human since he was poisoned isn’t upset. It’s excited.

Bucky paces around the apartment until nightfall, and he’s heading for the fire escape when Steve stops him with a hand to his arm.

“Bucky?”

It takes him a moment to respond, to translate the sounds into something his ears are willing to understand. 

“Steve.”

“Can you stay here until you change? It might be safer.”

In a far away corner of his mind he remembers talking with Steve about this, about how they don’t know how long it takes him to change, about how he could be vulnerable as it happens. About how Steve wants to make sure he’s not in danger.

But his body wants to run, and it wants to run _now_.

He shakes his head.

“Can I come with you, then?”

This wasn’t part of their plan, but Bucky just wants out, and he can’t think of any reason why Steve can’t come too, not if he wants to run like Bucky does. He nods and jumps out the window, practically flying down the fire escape.

When he hits the ground Bucky runs as fast as he can, and then faster, relishing the feeling of the wind against his skin. He’s apparently already taken off his sweatshirt, he realizes, but lets the thought go as soon as it occurs to him.

He can hear Steve behind him, the ease of his breath in and out as they race, the steady pounding of his heartbeat.

Bucky finds himself in the same warehouse as last month and barely makes it indoors before his body starts to throb. It feels like he’s heating up inside, and then it spreads, pushing through him and changing everything. He strips off his pants and falls to his knees as he shifts, muscles aching and bones stretching and his skin, his skin exploding. It’s impossible, he can’t breathe, he feels like he’s going to die, and then –

And then –

Bucky opens his eyes, and it’s still dark in the room but the world is bright, defined, clear. He stands up easily, feels his tail swish behind him, and swivels his head to catch the movement at his side. He knows who it is from his scent before his eyes land on him.

Steve. His face is pale and awed, and he raises his hand to his mouth for a moment before reaching out. 

“Bucky? You okay?”

Again that delay, where words seem to filter in through a fog. But yeah, he’s okay. He’s more than okay. He’s fantastic.

He grins at Steve, and takes off.

******

Steve trembles as he watches Bucky fall to the ground, writhing in what looks like terrible pain. But in an instant, it’s over, and Bucky is rising to his feet, transformed.

He’s not actually a cat, or a panther, or whatever the werecreature is that has taken him over, which is a relief. Bucky’s still mostly human, standing upright, with a face almost exactly like the one Bucky has worn for so many years. But he stands differently now, with a grace that reminds Steve of a ballet dancer, light on his feet and head held proud.

And of course, there’s the coating of black fur on his back, the tufted ears, and the tail.

Steve barely has a chance to stutter out a concerned question when Bucky bares his pointy teeth at him in the most cat-like grin Steve’s ever seen, and takes off at a sprint out of the building.

Steve follows him. They didn’t talk about this, beforehand, but Steve had thought about it. Thought about what it might be like for Bucky to run, unencumbered by his human concerns. Which might, of course, lead to him getting into trouble, or, worst case, doing something he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for when morning came. 

Steve had meant to talk to Bucky more, see if he wanted Steve to come along, but Bucky had seemed so out of it the past few days. And truth be told, Steve didn’t want to start another fight. 

From the way Bucky keeps pausing to look for him, however, and grinning that decidedly feline smirk when he sees that Steve is still keeping up, Steve thinks he’s okay with it.

Steve doesn’t have a clue where Bucky is headed, and it occurs to him far too late that maybe they should have gone somewhere out in the country for a few days. But Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, making the best of the space they have, dashing around the buildings near the docks. He climbs up and down fire escapes and through abandoned buildings with ease, and Steve marvels at his flexibility. He’s not using his metal arm to pull him up, like he often does, instead leaping great distances while Steve clambers up behind him.

Suddenly Bucky stops and sniffs the air, stock still with his arms at his sides, and for a moment the unearthly beauty of him standing there in the moonlight rocks Steve to his core. But then he’s off again, and Steve has to focus his attention on not losing him as he dodges in between and over parked cars, seemingly having the time of his life.

When Bucky slows, Steve approaches him calmly, not sure of his reception. But Bucky just turns and inclines his head at Steve, then begins trotting off in the direction of their apartment. Whatever’s going on in his mind, Bucky clearly remembers this part of the plan – go home before you fall asleep – and knows where home is. Steve sighs with relief, and follows him.

Steve climbs up the fire escape and in through the window (which they left open – oh well), and finds Bucky standing in the middle of the living room, looking lost. 

“Come on,” Steve says gently. “Come to bed.”

Bucky blinks at him, his blue eyes cast with a greenish tint, and nods. Steve holds out his hand and Bucky takes it. Bucky’s hand is warm in his, but there’s a soft brush of fur on the back of it, and his incredibly sharp nails poke at Steve’s skin.

Steve undresses quickly, leaving on only his boxers, and climbs into bed. He folds back the covers and holds out an arm for Bucky. 

For the first time, Bucky seems to realize that he’s not who he’s supposed to be, and a flash of panic flickers across his face.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, sweetheart,” Steve says, sitting up to take Bucky’s hand. 

Bucky looks over his shoulder at himself, his tail flicking with nerves, and then back at Steve. His eyes are impossibly wide. “This is… weird…” he says.

His voice is rough, but Steve is ridiculously glad to hear it. 

“I know. But it’s okay. It’ll only last until morning. Come on, you must be tired.”

Bucky climbs into bed and lies down, leaving as much space between himself and Steve as possible.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s all right,” Steve says, shifting closer. He has a sudden thought, and freezes. “I mean, it’s okay with me. Do you not want me to hold you?”

Bucky’s eyes grow wider still, and he shakes his head briskly, then frowns, and Steve could almost laugh at his confusion. He waits, and a moment later Bucky makes up his mind, pressing himself up against Steve’s side and laying his head on his chest.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Steve says, petting Bucky’s head and down his back, his fur soft under his hand. 

“It’s so weird,” Bucky says again, butting his head into Steve’s chin. “How is this okay?”

“Don’t know, Bucky. But it is.” Steve brings his hand back up and caresses Bucky’s ear, which causes Bucky’s whole body to spasm and press harder against Steve. “I’m always gonna love you. Doesn’t matter how weird it gets.”

Bucky whimpers, shifting to get closer to Steve, and suddenly it’s a whole new level of weird. Because Bucky is hard, and pressing against Steve’s thigh, and Steve nearly has an aneurism. 

But he’s just told Bucky over and over that it didn’t matter what happened to Bucky, what state he is in, that he was still Bucky. And he can’t bear the thought of rejecting Bucky again, not after their fight a few weeks ago. Steve takes a deep breath, and then lets his hand slide lower down Bucky’s back, cupping his furred ass as Bucky squirms against him. Then he gently runs his hand down the length of Bucky’s tail, and Bucky lets out a long whine.

Bucky looks up at Steve, pupils blown, and kisses him full on the mouth, hard and wet and entirely full of purpose, sharp teeth nipping at Steve’s lips. It’s electric, and Steve feels it all the way down to his toes. He moans and twists, his cock aching, and digs his hand into Bucky’s hair to hold him close. A moment later, Bucky backs off and stares at him, panting.

“Are we really gonna do this, with me all…?” Bucky waves a hand at himself. “You sure?”

“I’m sure, if you are,” Steve says, his voice echoing in his own ears.

“I’m sure… Sound mind, sound…” Bucky trails off. “Maybe not sound body. But, um,” he looks down at himself, and Steve looks too, and they both laugh. “Seem pretty normal down there.”

Steve runs a finger down Bucky’s stomach, wraps his hand gently around Bucky and gives him a careful tug. “Feels normal. Feel okay to you?”

“Ah, fuck, Steve,” Bucky arches his back and thrusts into Steve’s hand. “Feels good. Real good.” He pants against Steve’s neck, his right hand running up and down Steve’s chest, long nails lightly scraping as he goes. 

Steve captures Bucky in a kiss, hungry and devouring, and Bucky moans into his mouth, then pulls away and starts to kiss down Steve’s body. He licks at Steve’s pecs and sucks a nipple into his mouth, twirling it with his tongue until Steve is panting too.

“Holy shit, Bucky,” he breathes out. Then Bucky reaches down and starts to stroke him, carefully letting his nails touch just enough to tease. Steve is starting to come apart, but he doesn’t want it to be over yet, so he stops jerking Bucky and flips them so Bucky is on his back. Bucky’s eyes are wide, the blue tinged with a hint of green. It’s mesmerizing.

Steve plants his hands on either side of Bucky’s head and kisses him again, open mouthed and messy, before he gets back to work, kissing along Bucky’s jawline, then down the sensitive skin on his neck, biting and sucking as he goes. 

Bucky’s got his legs wrapped around Steve, heels pressing into his back, and the sensation of his soft fur on Steve’s skin is strange. It’s also incredibly arousing. Steve doesn’t let himself think about this other than to enjoy it, just keeps moving his attention down Bucky’s chest, gentling as he skims his lips over the scars that Bucky hates. Steve feels something trail over his back, and when he twists to look, he sees it’s Bucky’s tail.

He finds Bucky’s eyes and grins, then kisses him fervently until Bucky relaxes and does it again.

“Knew you were into the tail,” Bucky mumbles against Steve’s cheek, rolling them again to their sides, facing each other, so that Steve can reach Bucky’s ass. “Go ahead. Check it out.” 

Steve reaches around and finds the base of it, just above Bucky’s opening, and curls his hand around it. It’s just like a cat’s tail, soft fur covering bone and muscle, long and flexible. Steve can only stroke it in one direction, but when he does, Bucky lets out a mewling noise that nearly has Steve coming right then and there. Steve loves it, so he does it again, giving it a little tug as he gets to the end, and Bucky thrusts against him. 

Steve gets his other hand around them both, where they’re hard and leaking, and Bucky gasps against Steve’s neck, licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. Bucky’s hands are everywhere, sliding up and down Steve’s chest, and then he grabs Steve’s ass with his metal hand and squeezes, pressing them together as they writhe against each other.

Steve feels his orgasm rushing towards him, and just as he crests, Bucky thrusts up against him and twists his hand, letting his sharp nails trail over his sensitive skin. Steve thinks he yells out, although it might have been Bucky, and then everything goes dim.

Steve forces his eyes open a moment later. Bucky looks stunned, but his mouth tugs into a drowsy smile when Steve catches his gaze. Steve pulls him tight against his chest and, before either of them can say a word, Steve floats off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Bucky wakes up the next morning, head pillowed on Steve’s chest, he can tell immediately that’s he’s back in his human form. It feels almost as if last night was a dream. Then Bucky remembers the events of the night before, and he flushes with the thought – if it was a dream, it was the kinkiest one he’s ever had. 

And as horribly self-conscious as he immediately feels, there’s no hiding from Steve, who is holding him close, his fingers drawing lazy circles on Bucky’s back.

“I can tell you’re awake,” Steve says softly. “And that you’re thinking about freaking out. But you don’t have to.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. Sometimes Steve is too earnest for his own good. 

“Last night was amazing, as far as I’m concerned. Unbelievable, but amazing.” Steve presses a soft kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. “If it made you uncomfortable, we don’t have to ever do it again. But don’t be worried on my account.”

Bucky draws in a long breath and lets it out again, opening his eyes and taking in the view of Steve’s broad chest and firm rounded pecs. It’s a nice chest, for certain. Definitely a Captain America worthy chest. Maybe he can just stay here all day and study it carefully.

Steve doesn’t seem in any hurry to get them out of bed, so Bucky drifts for a little while longer. He’s warm, and safe, and curled up in pretty much his favorite place in the world.

But eventually nature calls, and he knows Steve will soon need to disrupt their cozy nest, too. He takes a deep breath, and pushes himself up on an elbow.

Steve is watching him, his best “I’m here for you no matter what” expression firmly planted on his face, and Bucky can’t help but smile.

“You’re a menace,” he says, poking Steve under the blanket with his toe. “Cut the crap and say what you’re actually thinking.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and then he beams, honest and open. “I’m thinking that you are the sexiest creature that ever walked the earth, whatever form you’re in. And that we may need to acknowledge that I’m kinkier than either of us ever imagined.”

Bucky feels the heat in his face as he blushes. “There’s got to be some rule against you talkin’ like that. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

Steve shrugs. “Facts are facts.” Then his face turns serious. “But… how do you feel?”

Bucky gets a sudden flash of Steve stroking his tail and his cock at the same time, and his cock twitches as if remembering as well. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiles shyly. “How much?”

Bucky shoves his arm fondly. “A lot, you pervert.”

Steve looks almost proud. “Call me whatever you want, as long as you don’t-“

“Call me late for dinner,” Bucky joins in, and then shoves Steve harder. “You’re not allowed to quote my ma when we’re in bed, dumbass.”

“Speaking of dinner, I could really use a hamburger. And those sweet potato fries.”

Bucky cranes his neck and checks the clock. “It’s not even nine o’clock in the morning.”

“That diner you like serves burgers all day.”

“We’re going out for breakfast, aren’t we?” Bucky asks, starting to slide himself off the bed.

“That we are. But first,” Steve scoots towards Bucky and puts a hand on the back of his neck, then leans in and gives him a long, soft kiss. “Gotta say good morning properly. Start the day off right.”

Bucky kisses him back, but finally pulls away and heads into the bathroom to get ready. Seems like things are looking up.

*****  
Despite the fact that it’s not quite eleven o’clock when they get to the diner, they order burgers and malts (if the diner’s going to advertise burgers twenty-four hours a day they must expect this kind of thing, they reason) and plan out their afternoon. Bucky has voted twice for taking a long nap, while Steve feels that they would be better served by getting some fresh air first, maybe taking a long walk, and then watching a movie. Bucky knows that means he can nap on Steve’s lap, so he’s fine with that plan too, he’s just not going to give in to Steve without at least an extended debate.

But their plans are thrown off course when their phones ring with that god-forsaken Avengers ring tone.

Bucky feels his stomach drop. Steve looks caught, like he used to when the nuns would find him reading a comic book instead of doing his homework. Their happy day has just been ruined, and that’s not the worst of it.

Steve picks up the phone, frantically raising his eyebrows at Bucky, and snatching the phone out of Bucky’s hand at the same time – as if Bucky was going to try to talk to Coulson first, which has happened exactly zero times. He’s not even sure why Coulson bothers to ring him as well as Steve.

Steve is nodding and “hm”-ing his agreement in all the right places, but then he interrupts Coulson, politely but firmly.

“Actually, I don’t think Bucky is going to be able to make it tonight,” he says. Bucky kicks him hard under the table, but Steve just grunts and goes on. “He was up all night, some kind of stomach bug, and it’s still bothering him today.”

Bucky is fuming, reaching for the phone, but Steve twists it out of his reach and kicks him hard in the side, sending him sliding out of the booth.

“No, not sure why the serum isn’t fighting it off. Post-serum bacteria, maybe. Want me to call Clint, see if he can come along?”

Bucky holds his breath, sitting on his ass on the floor next to their table. If Clint is out of town, or busy on another mission, there’s no way Bucky’s staying home.

“Sounds good. I’ll look for your email.” Steve ends the call and sighs, stretching his hand out to Bucky and pulling him in to his side of the booth. “Sorry, pal.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” In the time it had taken for Steve to lie his way through his excuses to Coulson, Bucky had realized that Steve was right. There was no way he could go on a mission tonight, not when he might turn. Talk about disaster.

“You’re not mad?” Steve looks nervous.

Bucky presses his lips together and shakes his head. “No. You’re right.” He tilts his head at Steve. “Post-serum bacteria? Is that a thing?”

Steve snorts. “Doubt it. Just something Natasha said once… that I shouldn’t eat the leftover pizza at Clint’s place because it probably had post-serum bacteria growing in it.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Glad to know Coulson’s as susceptible to your bullshit as everybody else. But Steve, if Clint can’t go on the mission tonight-”

“Then I’ll call Natasha. It’s just a two-man operation. It’d be helpful to have a sniper, but don’t you dare tell Natasha she can’t watch my six as well as one of you guys.”

Bucky appreciates Steve’s attempt to lighten the mood, but it’s not happening for him yet. “Call Clint.”

Thankfully, Clint’s got nothing more pressing on his calendar than movie night with Tony, and when Tony hears about the mission, he insists on coming along too. Coulson approves the expanded team – a bored Tony is a dangerous Tony – and Bucky resigns himself to the fact that he’s about to let Steve go off and fight without him.

It’s not like Steve’s never fought without Bucky before – obviously he has. It doesn’t mean Bucky has to like it.

But back at the apartment, Steve seems to be more concerned about leaving Bucky alone, which just compounds Bucky’s fears.

“You can’t be distracted tonight,” he says firmly. “Remember what happened when we were fighting? One of you is gonna get their heads blown off, and that will not make me happy.”

“But what if something goes wrong?”

“With me, you mean?” Bucky asks needlessly. “Nothing’s gonna go wrong. Probably nothing will even happen. Just like last month.”

“But what if it does?”

Steve makes Bucky promise to try his hardest to stay home, even if he really, really wants to run. 

“At least then I’ll know you’re in a safe place.”

“And you’ll focus on the mission, and not be distracted? You can’t do a damn thing for me while you’re out there, Steve. Do your job, and don’t let anyone get killed.”

Steve nods solemnly. “You’re right. I’ll focus. And you’ll stay home.”

“I’ll stay home,” Bucky acknowledges. And he will. If he can. He’ll try. 

And with that, and a series of long, faintly desperate kisses, Steve leaves the apartment, off to save the world yet again. Or at least some fraction of it.

*****  
Steve does focus on the mission, this time around. He’s comforted by the fact that Bucky probably won’t turn, and from what he could tell, Bucky retained his human self throughout his transformation. Even in the beginning when he just wanted to run, he understood Steve and communicated with him, although words did seem to come hard for him at first. 

Before Steve left that night they put simple notes around the apartment, reminders to Bucky to stay home, that Steve would be back as soon as he could. They also added Steve’s phone number, in case Bucky somehow couldn’t figure out how to find him on his phone (Bucky rolled his eyes at this, but Steve thought it made sense), and Coulson’s number with “for emergency only” written in big block letters.

Steve, Clint and Tony easily take out the Hydra base in western Pennsylvania – there are only a handful of lower-level scientists in the building when they arrive, and the whole place looks more like a school nurse’s office than a scientific lab. No torture rooms, no mind-wiping chairs. It’s practically a walk in the park.

Steve feels his phone buzz with a text as he’s buckling his seat belt in the quinjet, and he pauses in his pre-flight sequence to respond.

“Really, Steve?” Clint teases as he sees him check his phone, but Tony shoots him a knowing glance. Tony hasn’t said a word about Bucky’s condition tonight, except for the most outwardly innocuous of comments about how the light from the full moon would affect their approach to the base. Steve is grateful, and once again impressed by Tony. He’s not sure how much of Tony’s current goodwill towards him and Bucky stems from guilt over trying to kill them both, but he’s not going to look this gift horse in the mouth.

The text is from Bucky, and Steve practically shudders in relief as he reads it. 

_Stomach bug seems to have run its course. No problems tonight. Going to sleep._

Steve types out a quick response.

_That’s great. Op over, on our way home. Everyone safe. Love you._

_Love you too, Stevie._

It had taken everything Steve had in him not to think about Bucky during the battle, to focus on his team and the task at hand. But now he can finally spare a moment for what matters most, and he feels like the proverbial weight has lifted from his shoulders. Steve lets out a long breath and steadies himself before putting his phone back in his pocket and getting on with flying his friends home.

“Bucky feeling better?” Clint asks, and Steve doesn’t try to hide the soft smile on his face as he looks back over his shoulder to answer Clint.

“Yeah, he’s real good. Thanks.”

******

Bucky wakes to the sight of Steve standing in the doorway of their bedroom, still wearing the Captain America suit. There are bags under his beautiful blue eyes, and a strange expression on his face.

“Hey, come here,” Bucky says, sitting up and holding out his arms. “You okay?”

Steve nearly launches himself on to the bed, wrapping his arms around Bucky and knocking him back against the pillows.

“I did my job, Bucky,” he mumbles against his skin. “I focused. No one got hurt.”

“I know, babe, I know,” Bucky soothes, rubbing his hand over Steve’s uniformed back and catching his hand in the straps of the harness. At least he took the shield off, Bucky thinks, finding the top of the zipper and edging it down. “Why don’t you get out of this thing and come to bed with me?”

Steve digs his head into Bucky’s neck. “Don’t wanna move.” He’s curled in tight against Bucky, seeking comfort.

Bucky stops fumbling with the zipper and puts his hand on Steve’s head, stroking his fingers through his hair, just as Steve has been doing with him so often these days. Steve sighs, and starts to relax against him. 

“You’re really okay, right?” Steve asks, raising his head and looking searchingly at Bucky.

“I’m really okay. Nothing happened. Got a little, um…”

“What?” Steve is alert, and Bucky rushes to finish his sentence.

“Itchy under my skin. Agitated.” Like he wanted to run, but it was controllable. He knew he was supposed to stay home, and he did. “But nothing else. I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Promise.” He shifts them and holds out his metal hand, pinky extended, and Steve laughs brokenly, wrapping his own pinky around it.

“Pinky promise,” Bucky says. “Now come on, I’m not gonna let you sleep in the suit. It can’t be comfortable.”

Steve slides off him and lies on his back. Bucky watches as he takes deep breaths in and out, and thanks whoever’s up there for the millionth time that Steve can actually breathe in this life. It’s a far cry from what he used to have to endure pre-serum, his asthma so bad sometimes that Bucky would find himself counting his breaths, willing him to keep going. Bucky has to shake his head to bring himself back to the present, where despite all the crazy, Steve is safe and sound and healthy as the proverbial ox.

Finally Steve gets out of bed, stretching and rubbing his hand through his hair. “I’m going to shower. You, um… you want to join me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Bucky climbs out of bed. “You know… the tail might be gone, but I’ve got some other tricks up my sleeve,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and swaying his hips suggestively.

Steve responds with a groan, and Bucky grins. Things may be bizarre here in the future, and Bucky may have to deal with some unbelievable shit. But he and Steve are going to be okay. He knows it.

*****  
SHIELD keeps Steve busy for the next few days. They’ve received some intel that Coulson wants Steve’s input on, and so he spends hours at Avengers Tower pouring over reports and talking with the agent who was involved in the research. Coulson wants him to come to D.C. to talk to some people in person. Steve really doesn’t want to leave Bucky, and tries his best to convince Bucky that it isn’t a good idea for them to be apart. He even emails Coulson a proposal for a Skype meeting, suggesting that it would be more convenient for everyone, but Coulson notes that everyone else is in the same place already, and he believes that meeting Steve face to face will make an important difference. Finally Bucky swats Steve upside the head and tells him to get his ass in gear. _Do your job,_ Bucky tells him again, so he does.

By the time Steve returns home, it’s been a week since the full moon. He finds Bucky sunning himself on their roof. Clint is there too, and they’ve got a bucket of beer keeping them company. It’s a beautiful June afternoon, and Steve happily joins them, pulling up a plastic lounge chair and a beer. He doesn’t even care that the alcohol won’t affect him – Bucky’s bright welcoming smile is more than enough to make his day.

That night they’re getting ready for bed, Bucky stretching long and lean as he pulls his hair back, sleep pants resting low on his hips, and Steve sighs at the sight. He can’t believe it, most of the time, that he’s got Bucky back, right here in their apartment. In their _bed,_ , where Steve can show him just how much he loves him, body and soul.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful,” Steve says.

“What’s the occasion this time?” Bucky teases, making light of Steve’s words.

“No occasion.” Steve comes closer, crowding into Bucky’s space. Bucky’s fresh from the shower, bare chest damp and enticing. Steve pushes a wet strand of hair over Bucky’s ear and follows his fingers with a kiss, then pauses, a semi-rational thought niggling at his mind.

Bucky feels Steve still. “Hey, what’s up? Change your mind?” Bucky says impatiently as his hands on Steve’s hips giving him a squeeze.

“Nothing,” Steve replies, but immediately corrects himself, not wanting to dissemble. “It’s… your ears. I’m not sure they’re…”

Bucky pulls back and looks at Steve, a hint of panic in his features. His hands fly to his ears. “Are they furry?”

“No, no.” Steve grabs Bucky’s metal wrist and tugs him into the bathroom. “They’re not as pointy anymore. Don’t you think?”

Bucky holds his hair back and leans closer to the mirror. “They’re still not normal.” He turns to Steve. “Do you really think they’re different?”

“Hang on.” Steve gets his phone from the bedroom. “Let me take a few pictures, and then we’ll have something to compare them to.”

Bucky complies, holding his hair back and turning so that Steve can get both ears. “Didn’t Dr. Cho take pictures last month?”

“She did.” 

When Steve finishes, he puts a hand to Bucky’s stubbled cheek, and gives him a soft kiss. Bucky leans into it, but then pulls away and runs a finger over his teeth.

“Still sharp,” he comments. Steve puts a hand behind Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss, Bucky starting to laugh against his lips as Steve sticks his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, testing for himself.

“Yup, still sharp,” Steve agrees. He stares into Bucky’s eyes for a long moment, wondering if Bucky has noticed. “And your eyes are still extra gorgeous.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, confused, and Steve clarifies. “A little more green than before. Like the ocean.”

“You’re such a sap,” Bucky mutters, looking in the mirror again. “I think the color change happened this past full moon.”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky from behind and rests his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “My handsome guy,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s neck.

But Bucky’s eyes are wet now, and Steve can feel the hitch in his chest, where his arms are wrapped around him.

“Come to bed, sweetheart.”

“Steve, I don’t think I wanna…”

“It’s okay. Just come to bed.”

They curl up together under the covers, Bucky’s head on Steve’s chest, and Steve strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair until he falls asleep.

******

When Steve’s alarm goes off at 6 a.m. Bucky’s side of the bed is empty. Steve finds him sitting at the kitchen table. He’s wearing a long-sleeve t-shirt and shorts, and is lacing up his sneakers. 

“Thought I’d join you.”

Steve can’t remember the last time they went for a run together, but after a few blocks they fall into an easy rhythm. Steve avoids the docks, not wanting to bring back any complicated memories of what Bucky has been going through, and instead takes them to Prospect Park. They do the three-mile loop twice, and it feels great. 

The morning is warming up fast, and Steve can tell it’s going to be a hot day. They stop for iced mochas on their way home, standing outside the store to sip their drinks so they don’t offend anyone with their sweaty selves.

“Thanks,” Bucky says over his shoulder as they come back into the apartment. “That was fun.”

“Anytime, Buck.” Steve wants to say he looks good – because he does – but he’s afraid Bucky will take any comment on his fitness as somehow related to his feline-ness. Although it really wasn’t apparent this morning; Bucky was just his usual self, with the overlay of supersoldier stamina they have both gotten used to. 

Steve finally settles on something that seems like it can’t possibly offend – and it’s thoroughly true. “You’re my favorite running partner.”

This prompts a wide smile from Bucky, before he ducks his head and walks off to take a shower.

The pattern repeats the next morning, Bucky awake and ready to run with Steve, a shy smile on his face. As they race each other down a side street, Steve realizes that the reason Bucky hasn’t been running with him in so long is that he’s been sleeping late these past few months. He doesn’t want to dwell on it – it might just be that the summer sun is drawing him out of bed earlier. 

That afternoon Steve watches Bucky for signs of drowsiness, but he shows no inclination to nap. Bucky even responds to a few texts from Natasha, grinning at his phone as he types to her (in Russian, usually, so Steve can’t even catch a glimpse) and then announces that they’re all going out for pizza tonight.

It’s a remarkably normal evening, and Steve has to laugh at himself for how he now thinks of a gathering of superheroes, including his long lost lover former assassin boyfriend, as normal. Pepper is in town and she somehow manages to change their meeting spot from the greasy pizza place Bucky and Natasha had agreed on to a more upscale venue, a pizza and wine bar that apparently everyone in Brooklyn is talking about. This doesn’t stop Pepper from getting them an almost private table in the back, and by the time they finish reading through the menu and debating which bizarre pizzas to order, everyone is relaxed and having a great time. 

After their food comes the table decides that Natasha’s bacon, walnut and apple pizza wins the strangest pizza award, although Pepper’s mushroom and pignoli nut pie is voted second strangest. Tony has kept the wine flowing, and the happy mood of the group is infectious.

There’s a little hitch when Clint tells Bucky he’s glad he’s feeling better, and Steve can see Bucky’s momentary hesitation before he responds, realizing that Clint is talking about the supposed stomach bug, not his full moon adventures.

“Yeah, you never know with these post-serum bacteria,” Bucky says with a straight face, and Natasha bursts into laughter. Clint pets her head as she leans into his shoulder to stifle her giggles.

“What?” Tony narrows his eyes at Bucky, and then Steve, who is doing his best to keep a straight face. “What post-serum bacteria? Why has no one told me about this? Jarvis-”

Pepper whispers something in Tony’s ear, and he calms down, nodding. “Okay. Good one. Very funny. But no one’s going to believe it.”

“Agent Coulson does,” Steve says. “And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t disabuse him of the notion.” He lets a little of his Captain America voice color his words, and Natasha stops laughing.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she says, lips pressing together. She clearly knows something is going on, probably assuming something to do with Bucky’s recovery from decades of mistreatment at Hydra’s hands. “Anytime you need backup, I’m here, okay?”

“Me too,” Clint nods, and Tony and Pepper chime in, Pepper looking concerned and Tony putting on his most innocent face.

Bucky looks pained, and Steve can tell he’s regretting making the joke, as funny as it was. He doesn’t bother to deny it, though, just mutters his thanks and takes another bite of pizza.

“We’re all right, really,” Steve says. “But thanks. That means a lot to us.”

A few minutes later the conversation has picked back up, Tony and Clint debating which television series to binge watch next, but Steve can tell Bucky’s heart is no longer in it. He slings an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, and they sit quietly for a while. Bucky’s metal arm is in between them, and Steve takes his hand and puts it on his thigh, his own hand on top. Bucky tolerates it, and gives him a little “you’re such a sap” smile.

Steve is just about to suggest that they head home when Bucky’s phone pings. His face relaxes as he sees the text; it’s from Natasha, if the fond look she gives Bucky as he reads is any indication.

Bucky types back, and a moment later, having apparently received the confirmation she was looking for, Natasha stands up and stretches. “I don’t know about you guys, but it’s time for me to head home.”

Pepper follows her lead, dragging Tony away from his interrogation of Clint about a new sci-fi show that is apparently the best thing on television since Battlestar Galactica, and soon the whole group is exchanging goodnights.

Back at the apartment, Steve changes into his sleep pants and a t-shirt and brushes his teeth, expecting to fall into bed as soon as possible. But when he emerges from the bathroom Bucky is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, phone in his hands.

He looks up when Steve enters the room, a nervous look on his face.

“I’m meeting with Dr. Cho tomorrow,” he says, as if daring Steve to object.

“Okay.” Steve knew that meeting with Dr. Cho at some point was the plan. He’s not surprised that Bucky hadn’t wanted to talk about it in advance.

“You don’t have to come.”

Well, that stings a little. “Why wouldn’t I want to come?”

Bucky shrugs. “Dunno. Natasha said she’d come, if you wanted a break.”

Steve can feel his heart speed up, pounding against his chest like it isn’t supposed to do anymore. “Bucky,” he begins, but hardly knows what to say next. He moves closer, slowly, so as not to make Bucky feel trapped against the kitchen counter. 

Bucky doesn’t move away, but he’s got his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

“Hey, Buck. Look at me.”

Bucky’s blue-green eyes find Steve’s. A little different than they used to be, but no less precious to Steve. 

Steve reaches out and rests his hand on the side of Bucky’s neck, his thumb brushing his jaw. “Bucky, I don’t need a break. I want to be with you. All the time, and especially for something like this. Why would you think otherwise?”

Bucky shrugs again. “Clint said you guys hadn’t sparred in a while. That you used to do it all the time.”

“Sure, once in a while. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Just don’t want to monopolize your time. All you’ve done for months is worry about me.”

“Well, yeah.” There’s no point denying it. “Because I love you, you idiot. What do you expect?” Steve can’t hold back any more, and he takes Bucky in his arms, pressing a hand to the back of his head to hold him close. “Christ, Bucky, having you back here to worry about is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Bucky melts against Steve, burying his face in his neck. “Better than the serum?” he mumbles.

“Better than anything. Promise.” Steve finds Bucky’s hand and wraps his pinky around Bucky’s little finger. “Pinky swear.”

Bucky laughs wetly and grips Steve’s finger back. “Okay. Okay.”

Steve doesn’t sleep much that night, curled around Bucky, feeling every tremor and shiver that runs through his body as nightmares consume him. It’s the worst night Bucky’s had in ages, and Steve doesn’t know what to make of it. He can only hope that when they meet with Dr. Cho tomorrow, she has something to tell them. 

*****  
Turns out, she does.

“I don’t have a cure,” Dr. Cho begins, after Bucky begs her to just give it to them straight. “But I may have an explanation.”

“And that’s important news,” Tony chimes in. “A critical first step. It’ll give us a starting point for finding the cure. It’s just a matter of time, now. Great minds are on it, don’t you worry.”

Bucky’s standing in Tony’s lab, his hands clenched together so hard he knows he’s going to give himself bruises on his flesh hand. Steve is standing next to him. He’s got his hands clenched together too, and Bucky doesn’t know if it’s because he’s trying not to strangle Tony, or trying to stop himself from gathering Bucky up into his arms and giving him a place to hide.

“Just let Dr. Cho finish, Tony,” Steve says. Bucky can practically hear his teeth grinding together.

“James, the poison you were infected with is actually an airborne variation of the same serum that Dr. Erskine developed. My modeling suggests that if it were inhaled by someone who had never had the serum before, it might have transformed them completely into another creature, not just a hybrid. Perhaps permanently.”

A chill runs through Bucky’s body, and he feels Steve place a hand on his shoulder. “So the serum in Bucky’s blood saved him?” Steve asks.

“Possibly. But I can’t be sure.” Dr. Cho takes a deep breath, and goes on. “Unfortunately, not all of my news is good. I almost hate to say this, because I have so little data to work with. I don’t want to alarm you. But in some circumstances, the poison’s effects seem to increase over time.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks.

“My findings suggest that in a person without the serum, in some cases there wouldn’t be an immediate change. Instead, there could be a delayed effect, which might include an eventual complete change, with no reversion to human form.”

Bucky feels like he’s going to pass out. This could get worse. It’s horrible enough, but it could get worse.

“Will that happen to me? Eventually I won’t change back?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. That’s all I know at this point. The serum and your accelerated healing make it difficult to predict how you’ll be affected.”

“Why would anyone want to do this to people?” Steve asks, dumbfounded. He’s right up next to Bucky now, shoulder pressed against his, and Bucky can feel him shaking.

“I wondered the same thing,” Dr. Cho says. “And I don’t have a clue. Perhaps because they’ve had such inconsistent results with making super soldiers. They may have hoped that animals would be easier to control.”

“Sure,” Tony says, musing. “Why have humans that you have to make into monster soldiers when you can just start with monsters?”

“Tony, what the hell,” Steve hisses, and Tony’s head jerks up, immediately contrite.

“Sorry, Barnes. Ignore me, I’m an ass. Sorry.”

But Bucky’s more interested in figuring out what’s going on with him than arguing with Tony about the Winter Soldier (and frankly, he’s right – the Winter Solider was a monster. No money to be made on that score). 

“What does any of this have to do with the full moon?” Bucky asks.

Dr. Cho looks from Bucky to Steve, and then back again. “I don’t know for sure. I have some theories.” Bucky nods, and she goes on. “Fables have power, and have long been used as weapons. Tell people a story and it works its way into their identity. A story that you hear in your youth can color your belief system for your whole life. When a story you’ve heard a million times seems to come true, even if it’s fantastic, you’re more likely to believe it.”

“So HYDRA wanted to play on people’s fears about werecreatures by turning people into werecreatures?”

“It’s just a thought. I don’t have any proof.” Dr. Cho drums her fingers on the countertop, and then seems to come to a decision. “There is another possibility.”

Tony, who had been scrolling through stories about werewolves on three screens he’s got floating in the air in front of him, pushes them all aside. “Doc, that sounds awfully ominous.”

“I said earlier that the poison was a variation of the serum Dr. Erskine developed. I’m not completely certain that Dr. Erskine’s version came first.”

Bucky hears Steve’s sharp inhale beside him. “What do you mean?” Steve asks, his voice rough.

“Dr. Erskine may have based his super soldier serum on another one that he found, that caused a transformation into another form. A stronger, fiercer form, one that could go into battle against great foes.”

“Are you saying I’m made out of werecat?” Steve asks, disbelieving.

“Now there’s a twist,” Tony comments. “Relax, Steve, you’re still the cat’s meow. Ha – didn’t even mean to say that. Fitting, though.”

Bucky growls at Tony, and Tony puts his hands up. “Shutting up now. Again. Sorry.” 

Dr. Cho looks apologetically at Steve, and then at Bucky. “I know this wasn’t what you were hoping to hear. But Tony wasn’t completely wrong when he said this was an important first step.”

“Wasn’t wrong at all,” Tony mutters.

“I’d like to examine you now, James, if that’s okay with you. Tony, why don’t you give us some space.”

Steve follows Tony towards the door, lobbing a few choice comments his way, while Dr. Cho has Bucky sit on one of the lab stools. She’s taking his blood pressure when Steve returns.

“Did you tell her about the changes?” Steve asks.

“We really just started with the exam,” Dr. Cho replies. “Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?”

“His ears aren’t as pointy.”

“We’re not sure,” Bucky says defensively, his hands automatically coming up to touch his ears.

Dr. Cho nods, not giving anything away. “Let’s do the exam, and then we’ll talk. I promise we’ll cover everything.”

Bucky endures the poking and prodding and the always annoying drawing of blood. Doesn’t matter that he’s a feared former assassin, he still doesn’t like needles. Dr. Cho is patient with him, but at one point when she switches out a vial to take another few ounces, the needle still stuck in his arm, Bucky glances up and sees that Steve has gone pale.

“Stevie, sit down, will you?” Bucky whispers, and Steve does, landing so hard on the wheeled stool next to Bucky that it slides across the floor.

Bucky grins, and Steve shakes his head at him, then stands up and comes back to Bucky’s side. 

“You feeling okay, pal?” Bucky asks. “Don’t want you to pass out on me.”

“I’d feel better if I could hold your hand,” Steve says under his breath. Bucky knows he’s actually being serious, and so when Dr. Cho is done with his arm, Bucky takes Steve’s hand in his and holds it tight.

For all Bucky’s nervousness the night before, he knows in his bones that Steve wants to be with him right now. That Steve needs him, maybe not in the same ways that Bucky needs Steve, but needs him nevertheless. Suddenly Bucky wants Steve to know that he knows this, and he gives Steve’s hand a hard squeeze.

“What?”

Dr. Cho has taken the blood samples to the other side of the lab, where she’s presumably checking them out.

Bucky stands up and loops his arms around Steve’s neck, then presses a firm kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry about last night, freaking out on you like that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Steve looks a little baffled. “It’s okay.”

Bucky could leave it there, but he feels like he needs to say the words. “I do need you. I couldn’t do this without you. And… I’m gonna do whatever I have to do to make this right. Whatever Dr. Cho says. Not gonna leave you, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes fill with tears, and he hugs Bucky tight, almost rough in his embrace. “Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too.”

They manage to calm down by the time Dr. Cho returns, although Bucky suspects she was pretending to examine imaginary data for a while to give them some privacy.

But the look on her face isn’t as reassuring as Bucky had hoped it would be. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything definitive to tell you,” she says. “I wish I did.”

“Is the poison going away?” Steve asks. “You must be able to tell that.”

“It’s still there,” she replies calmly. “But it’s somewhat different in its chemical makeup. I just can’t tell you what that means.”

“What about his ears?”

Dr. Cho’s eyes are kind. “They do seem less pointy.” Apparently this isn’t the cause for celebration Bucky had hoped it might be.

She sends them off, promising to let them know as soon as she has more information.

They ride home in a car Tony called for them, neither of them having the energy to protest. Bucky spends the time going over and over in his mind what he’s going to say to Steve. 

When they get inside the apartment, Steve looks at Bucky with wide eyes, and Bucky knows he’s at a loss. They spent most of their childhood with Bucky caring for Steve, through all his bumps and bruises and life-threatening illnesses. Steve’s been fighting the good fight taking care of Bucky since he came back from Wakanda, but Bucky knows it’s a lot to deal with, especially recently.

“I think we need a new strategy,” Bucky says. He sits down on the couch and pats the space next to him.

Steve obediently sits down, and bites his lip, staring at the rug for a long moment before he looks up and meets Bucky’s eyes. “All right. What did you have in mind?”

“I think we have to assume that this is permanent. That the three-day full moon pattern is going to repeat, every month. And if it gets worse, well, we won’t know until it happens. No point in worrying about it until then.” Bucky can’t put Steve through this anymore, the constant anxiety and fear. It isn’t right.

Steve looks like he wants to protest, to insist that he’ll find some way around it, but Bucky glares at Steve and he relents. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Bucky nods. “I do,” he says, willing himself to believe it. “Agreed?”

Steve still looks like he wants to argue, but he bites his tongue and gives in to what Bucky wants. He’s been conditioned by endless meetings with Bucky’s doctors to make sure he respects Bucky’s agency, and apparently they did a pretty good job. “Agreed,” Steve says reluctantly. 

“All right.” Bucky realizes he’s forgotten what he had planned to say next, or if there was anything else to say.

Steve inches closer to him and puts his arm around his shoulders, and Bucky lets himself be held. He’s shivering a little, but Steve is warm, and he closes his eyes, focusing on Steve’s scent. Maybe there isn’t really anything else to say. It’s just this. The two of them, together.

******  
Steve accepts Bucky’s wishes. He gets it, he really does – constantly hoping for a cure when even the best and brightest have come up empty feels like it’s doing more harm than good. So Steve doesn’t bring it up again.

When Bucky calmly informs him over cereal one morning that he’s going to the Tower to spar with Clint, Steve is a little surprised. He can count on one hand the number of times Bucky has initiated social events since he was poisoned. One finger, really.

But when he questions Bucky about it, Bucky just shrugs. “I can’t hide in here forever,” he says, and then smirks at Steve. “You jealous? Feel free to come along.”

That afternoon Steve’s at the gym, watching Bucky and Clint go at it (“let me warm him up for you, Steve,” Clint had said, before Bucky kicked Clint soundly in the chest and drew his attention elsewhere). In hindsight, Steve wonders if he shouldn’t have come along. Maybe Bucky wanted a little space. They have been living in each other’s pockets lately.

Clint is up in the rafters now, shooting arrows at Bucky, while Bucky dodges them and swings upwards towards the roof. Steve stares at him, trying to judge whether the coiled power in his muscles is a feline thing, or just Bucky’s enhanced super serum strength.

Tony appears in front of Steve, momentarily blocking his view of Bucky. “Puddy Tat and Tweety didn’t let you play?” 

Steve lets the nicknames go without comment. He knew Tony would eventually revert to form, as uncharacteristically serious as he’s been about the whole werecreature dilemma. “I would have thought Sam would be Tweety.”

Tony shrugs. “Works for Clint too. You use the material you have.” He looks at Bucky and Clint, who are now wrestling thirty feet above the ground. “I’ve got reubens coming. Hungry?”

Steve lets his gaze rest on Bucky, and lets out a long breath.

He feels Tony’s hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. “Come on, Cap.”

“I should let Bucky know.”

Tony narrows his eyebrows at him, not unkindly. “I think he’ll be able to find you. Jarvis, invite the boys down for lunch when they’ve finished beating each other up?”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve casts one last look at Bucky, who is hanging upside down by his ankles and flicking Clint’s arrows back at him, and follows Tony to the elevator.

The food hasn’t arrived yet, but Tony twists the top off a water bottle and hands it to Steve, taking out some kind of juice for himself.

“So. Have a seat, and spill. Mama’s here. Tell me your troubles.”

Steve sits down at the kitchen island and tries not to glare at Tony.

“What? You’re pouting. Or you were, until you got that irritated golden retriever look on your face. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Steve tries to rearrange his expression into something less pouty. Turns out it’s kind of hard.

“Barnes seems to be doing well.”

“Yeah.”

Tony flicks something at Steve’s head – a rubber band, from who knows where – and fixes him with an exasperated look. “Could you possibly be less enthusiastic? Isn’t it a good thing – former assassin not killing people, going out for pizza, playing reindeer games in the gym?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s just…” he sighs. “After the last appointment with Dr. Cho, despite what she said about what might happen… Bucky claims that he’s just going to accept it all. That’s that. No more trying to figure it out. He’s not going to worry about it.”

Tony raises an eyebrow.

“And it’s… weird,” Steve says.

“Weird how?”

Steve leans his head back and tries to think. He hadn’t even realized how off the past few days have felt until just now. “I feel like he should be more upset.”

Tony sits down next to Steve. “You feel like Bucky should be more upset, or that you should? ‘Cause it kinda seems like _you_ are.”

“I guess… I’m not good at letting things go.”

“Even though Barnes doesn’t want to dwell on it?”

“That’s just it,” Steve gets up and paces the length of the ample kitchen. “I don’t see how he can ignore it. He asked me to accept it, so I’m trying, but I just don’t know if I can.” 

“You know, Bruce told me something once, when Pepper and I were still trying to make it work.”

Steve huffs. “Guess it wasn’t very good advice.”

“Hey, did I say I followed it? I didn’t say I followed it. I should have followed it.”

“Fine. Tell me. What did Bruce say?”

“Talk to her – or, you know, him.”

“Bucky told me not to.” Even Steve can hear how petulant his voice sounds, and he winces.

“You’re saying your long-lost sweetie forbid you to tell him if something is upsetting you? Gotta call you out on that one, Cap. I don’t buy it.”

They’re interrupted by a staff person bringing in what looks to be enough food to feed fifteen people - bags of food and bottles of soda and what looks like an ice cream cake in a box with a plastic cover. Jarvis informs them that Clint and Bucky are on their way down.

“Bite the bullet, big guy,” Tony says as he brushes past Steve with a take out container in his hand. “Pouting gives you wrinkles. Next thing you know you’ll be going gray.” He reaches up and tousles Steve’s hair, and Steve frowns.

Bucky gives them a curious look as he walks in the door. He’s still wearing sweats and a t-shirt, slightly damp from his workout with Clint. His hair is coming out of his short ponytail, a few strands waving around his face, and he walks with the easy confidence of someone who just ran themselves through their paces and came out on top. Steve wants to tug him out of the room, bury his face in Bucky’s chest and confess all his fears, but instead he’s got to break bread with the team as if nothing is wrong.

“Did I miss something?” Bucky asks. 

“Just Cap being an idiot,” Tony says, waving his bottle of root beer for emphasis. “So, reubens for everyone? There should be some roast beef in here too, and probably a turkey club.” He’s opening packages and setting them out on the counter. “Oooh, knishes. Steve, you ever have a knish?”

“Yes, Tony, I have,” Steve says.

Bucky gives Steve a sympathetic look, apparently deciding that he had just walked in on run of the mill Tony obnoxiousness, and lets it go.

Clint disappears into the bathroom, and when he comes out, his face and hair are damp with water, and he’s walking with a slight limp.

“Everything alright?” Steve asks, and Clint just rolls his eyes and groans.

“You look a little worse for wear, Barton,” Tony adds. “Barnes, try not to damage the merchandise.”

“Go to hell, all of you.” Clint shuffles over to the table and winces as he sits down.

Bucky just shrugs and takes a bite of a knish. “Not my fault it doesn’t take much effort to tire you out, Barton.”

Clint kicks Bucky under the table, and Bucky lunges towards him as if to put him in a headlock, but then sits back and laughs as Clint ducks.

Watching this, Bucky laughing and teasing his friends, Steve feels petty. How can Steve begrudge Bucky the chance to stop thinking about whatever horrors he’s going through, even just for a little while? Maybe putting his head in the sand is the way to go.

Of course, given that he’s apparently characterizing it as a cowardly move even inside his own mind is probably not a good sign.

******

Steve makes it two days before he breaks. He’s surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

“Bucky, I need to talk to you.”

Bucky looks up from the basket of laundry he’s folding (his ma would have been so proud, Steve thinks) and nods. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I know you said you don’t want to think about this anymore-”

Bucky stops him, a hand in the air. “You think I don’t _think_ about it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I…” Steve starts automatically. “Wait – you do?” Has he misunderstood all this time?

Bucky sighs and sits down on the bed. “I don’t want to. I thought I could just compartmentalize, you know? Go on with my life, and deal with it three days out of the month – or” he stutters, swallows hard, and goes on, “or more, whatever happens, deal with it when it happens. But it turns out I can’t.” Bucky’s voice is laced with anxiety.

Steve sits down next to him, his brain trying to catch up. “You could’ve told me.”

“I thought you could use a break.”

“Buck, we’ve been over this. I don’t need a break from you.”

“Yeah, but the constant focus on me, my problems, my issues… it’s gotta be exhausting.” Bucky’s got his hands clenched together in his lap, his eyes on the floor.

Steve leans into his metal shoulder. It’s not as comfy as the other one, but it’s still Bucky. “Well, then, maybe we could talk about me for a little while.”

Bucky rests his head against Steve’s and sighs. “You’re boring. Mister perfect Captain America. You’ve never been a monster, and you don’t turn into one. What’s to discuss?” Bucky’s clearly trying to make a joke, but there’s a bitterness to his voice that makes Steve’s stomach clench.

Steve shifts to face Bucky, one knee coming up on to the bed between them. “Please don’t talk about yourself that way,” Steve says, taking Bucky’s hands in his own. “You’re not a monster. Kind of a little shit sometimes, but not a monster, Buck. Never.”

“Whatever.”

“And I’m not perfect.”

Bucky shrugs wordlessly.

“I was jealous the other day. Of Clint.” The words fall out of his mouth before Steve can help it. Okay, it’s an example of not being perfect, but still not quite what Steve meant to throw into this conversation.

Bucky’s head twists to look at him, an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

“Of _Clint_?”

“When you were sparring. You were having so much fun together. He was making you laugh…” Steve ducks his head. “I know it’s terrible. I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be glad you’ve got friends, that you’re happy.”

Bucky’s shoulder starts to tremble and Steve looks up, sure he’s going to see Bucky holding in tears. But instead Bucky’s got his hand pressed tight to his mouth and he’s giggling.

“Hey, that’s not nice,” Steve says. “I was baring my soul.” Steve earns his drama queen nickname fairly, and he’s not ashamed of it.

“I’m sorry, Steve, but,” Bucky pauses, still trying not to laugh, “you’re out of your mind if you think anyone could ever take your place. Clint…” Bucky snorts, losing his battle against the giggles.

“I can’t help it,” Steve says, leaning in close and mumbling against Bucky’s neck. “I’m kind of attached to you.”

Bucky humors Steve for a long moment, then slides out of his hold and fixes him with an amused stare. “Now, I’d understand if you were jealous of Natasha, she’s a real catch, but Clint…”

Steve has to laugh too. “Okay, now you’re just making me feel bad for Clint.”

******  
A week later, Steve gets up for his run, expecting to find Bucky waiting for him in the kitchen, but he’s not there. A quick search finds Bucky in the bathroom, crouching on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. There’s a sour smell in the air. Steve’s not sure if it’s the fact that Bucky is sweating like a maniac or that he’s been puking into the toilet that gives it away, but something is definitely wrong.

“Hey, pal,” Steve lowers himself to the floor in front of Bucky. “What’s going on?”

Bucky raises his head, a scared look in his eyes. “Don’t know.”

Steve tugs a towel down from the rack behind him and drapes it over Bucky’s bare shoulders, then rests his hands on Bucky’s pajama clad knees. Bucky had gone to bed early the night before, saying he felt tired, but Steve hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now he’s starting to wonder.

“The flu, maybe?”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t get the flu. Not since…”

Fair enough. Steve’s about to question him further when Bucky goes even paler, and then twists to dry heave into the toilet. 

Steve rests a gentle hand on his back, then helps him ease back down to the floor. “How long has this been going on?”

Bucky shrugs. “A while.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I’m not a kid, Steve. Don’t need you to hold my hair.” 

Steve watches as Bucky realizes that his hair is, in fact, in his way, damp with sweat and sticking to his cheeks. Steve digs around in the drawer next to the sink and hands Bucky a hair tie. Bucky takes it and ties his hair back, then slumps back down against the wall, as if that simple effort has exhausted him.

“Have you taken your temperature?”

Steve takes Bucky’s silence as a no, and returns to the drawer for a thermometer. It’s one of his favorite future tools – no scary hard-to-read glass tube, just a friendly little screen that tells you exactly how hot you are. Bucky doesn’t protest when Steve slides it into his mouth.

When it beeps, Bucky stares at it, but his hand is shaking too much, so Steve takes it from him. “One hundred and three point five. Bucky, that’s really high.”

Steve very rationally suggests that Bucky take some Tylenol, but Bucky just throws it back up. Bucky’s shaking more now, the trembling in his hand spreading until it’s making his whole body shake. Steve gets a blanket from the bed and shifts Bucky out of his corner until Bucky is curled up against him, head and shoulders in his lap, knees pressing against Steve’s thigh.

“Sure you won’t come to bed?” Steve asks. Bucky shakes his head. Every so often Steve tries to get Bucky to drink some water, but it’s slow going, and he seems to throw most of it back up anyway.

Hours go by, with no visible improvement. Bucky seems to be drifting, half-asleep. When Steve takes his temperature again it’s a hundred and four. He’s getting worse, and Steve has to press down the feeling of panic rising inside him. Maybe it’s time to get help.

“Bucky, I want to call Tony.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, so Steve tries again. He hates to disturb him, but he’s not about to do it without Bucky’s permission. “Bucky? Sweetheart?” Steve shakes his shoulder until Bucky’s eyes squint open.

“Can I please call Tony?” Steve asks. “I’m worried about you.”

For a long moment Bucky doesn’t even seem to register Steve’s words, but then he shakes his head. “No.”

“No? But-”

“What if I’m turning?” Bucky shoves himself up into a sitting position and glares at Steve. “For good?”

“Turning? Why would you think that? The full moon is still days away.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, as if it proves his point. “If I’m going to be… I don’t want anyone else here.” 

“We don’t know that’s what’s going on.”

“No? What other reason could there be for all this?” Bucky waves his hand weakly at himself.

Steve can think of lots of reasons, but since there haven’t been any aliens or mad scientists in their apartment lately, at least a few of them can be crossed off the list. 

“Bucky, you might just be sick-”

“When’s the last time you caught a cold?”

Steve is silent.

“Sometime back in the 30’s, right? So don’t tell me I’m just sick.” Bucky shivers then, a full body spasm that has him wrapping his arms tightly around his middle. His eyes flare with fear, and Steve feels his heart skip a beat.

Maybe Bucky _is_ going to turn. In the middle of the day, without a full moon. 

“I’m scared, Steve,” Bucky breathes out, and Steve takes him in his arms, rubbing his hands up and down the sweaty skin of his back.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck. I’ll be here. I’ll keep you safe.” 

Bucky lets out a long moan, low in his throat, and Steve swallows hard. “Hang in there, Buck. You’re gonna be okay.” Steve pulls the blanket around them both, and prays to whoever is out there not to give Bucky anything else to bear. He’s had enough, he thinks. Let him be. Please, let him be.

When an hour goes by without Bucky dry heaving into the toilet, Bucky agrees to get into bed. Steve practically carries him into the bedroom, shoving the blankets out of the way until he can get Bucky tucked in underneath. Bucky protests, trying to push Steve’s hands away, but once he’s wrapped up safe under the covers with Steve curled up behind him, Steve can feel some of the tension go out of Bucky’s body.

“Try to sleep, pal,” Steve says softly. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky’s still feverish, but his shaking slowly calms, and at some point, Steve falls asleep too.

When he wakes up, Bucky has turned over, facing Steve. His eyes are open and clear, and there’s a shy smile pulling at his mouth.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes out, blinking as he remembers why they’re in bed. 

“I may have overreacted,” Bucky says, running his hand through his sweaty hair. The blankets are down around his bare chest, his metal arm shoved up under the pillow. It’s clear that he hasn’t turned. “I’m still me.”

Steve leans over and presses a lingering kiss to Bucky’s forehead, causing him to squirm. “You’re always you.”

“Cut it out, Rogers.”

Steve presses another kiss to Bucky’s forehead, then trails down for a quick press to his lips. “Just checking your temp. Fever’s gone.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

“How are you feeling?”

Bucky gazes back at him, his greenish blue eyes wide and soft. “Relieved.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

“And…” Bucky leans up on an elbow. “Really fucking hungry.”

*****  
Bucky knows it wasn’t just a virus or some other normal illness that had him burning up from the inside out, but they don’t talk about it after that day. And Bucky doesn’t call Tony, or Dr. Cho, or any of the things a normal person might do in this situation. Whatever is happening to him isn’t normal.

Bucky plays close attention to his body after this, trying to judge whether he feels different than he did before the fever - whether he’s coming closer to a full time gig as a werecreature, or whether he should just expect the status quo. He thinks Steve is watching him with the same cautious eye.

He knows that at least part of the reason Steve beams when Bucky wakes up first in the morning is because Steve thinks it means he is becoming less cat-like, as opposed to the beginning of this mess when Bucky spent so much time during the day sleeping. But Bucky isn’t so sure. He thinks it’s more likely due to the fact that he can’t sleep for worrying about what’s going to happen at the next full moon, which is creeping ever closer. Plus the days are getting longer, and there’s more sun to be had during the day, which still feels like silk on his skin. Why wouldn’t he want to wake up and enjoy it?

Bucky allows himself a quick examination in the mirror every morning after his shower. The point of his ears has softened, he’s sure of it. But the green tint in his eyes hasn’t gone away, and his teeth are still wickedly sharp. He’s pricked his tongue on them more times than he can count.

*****

It’s the night before the three days of the full moon. Bucky is curled up on Steve’s lap on the couch, Steve’s fingers petting gently through his hair, when Steve speaks softly into the quiet, his voice laced with pain.

“No matter what happens, Buck, I’m still here for you. This is always gonna be your home, and we’ll…” Steve’s voice cracks, and his hand clutches hard in Bucky’s hair. “We’ll always belong to each other.”

Bucky pushes himself up and twists to look at Steve. His eyes are bright, and it makes Bucky’s chest ache. For all that he wants to reassure Steve, to promise that everything is going to be all right, Bucky can’t do it. Bucky’s halfway convinced that he’s going to change into a cat tomorrow and never turn back again. It’s terrifying, but maybe it’s what he deserves; living a brand new life here with Steve never seemed like appropriate justice for someone who has committed the Winter Soldier’s crimes.

But Steve – strong, courageous, wonderful Steve… he shouldn’t have to suffer. Steve doesn’t deserve this. There’s not much Bucky can do, except wrap his mismatched arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and hold him tight. Steve buries his face against Bucky’s neck with a sob, and Bucky’s heart breaks.

*****

The next morning, Bucky feels the familiar tingling in his blood, the itchy feeling under his skin that seems to be the hallmark of the first day of the full moon. 

Steve’s got his determined face on, and makes up an overflowing plate of pancakes and sausages as if nothing is wrong. They eat at the kitchen island without saying much more than pass the milk.

Bucky takes a long shower, then gets back into bed. Steve follows him wordlessly, wrapping himself around Bucky, soft flannel shirt pressed tight against Bucky’s bare skin. Bucky dozes, not really tired enough to sleep, but taking comfort in Steve’s presence. He hopes that whatever happens he can still recognize Steve, still feel his love. It’s the best thing in his life.

Around dinner time Bucky slides out of bed, pulls on a soft pair of Steve’s pajama pants, and pads into the kitchen. They take turns staring into the refrigerator’s uninspiring contents, and then eat cold turkey sandwiches and slices of cheese.

Steve’s phone buzzes, and Bucky feels a jolt of panic – Steve can’t leave him, not now – but Steve just frowns at it and sends a text back.

“Sam wants to know if we want to see a movie with him next week. Tony won’t go, says there’s no reason to watch movies anywhere but in the Tower’s home theater.”

Bucky strains to process Steve’s words. This is what normal people do, make plans to hang out with their friends. “Kinda agree with Tony.”

Steve huffs. “That’s a first.” 

“Movie theaters are sticky.”

“You never objected before.”

“Before we had a billionaire throwing movie night parties for us with gourmet food and unlimited liquor?”

“Fine,” Steve gives in, shooting Bucky an amused glance. “I told Sam we’d get back to him in a few days,” Steve goes on, the humor leaving his voice.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Bucky agrees. 

They pass the rest of the evening in front of the television. Bucky can’t sit still, though, and keeps having to get up and pace the room. Steve’s eyes follow him, his mouth drawn and tight. It’s making Bucky’s skin crawl.

“Just go to bed, Rogers,” Bucky finally says. It’s almost midnight, and he can’t take it much longer – the anxiety, the not knowing.

“Come with me,” Steve insists.

“I can’t sleep.”

Steve ducks his head, then looks back up at Bucky. “We don’t have to sleep.” His gaze is steady, and despite the anxiety whirling in Bucky’s mind, he feels heat flare in his belly.

“Yeah?”

Steve steps closer, until their chests are nearly touching. “Yeah.” His breath is hot on Bucky’s skin, and Bucky surges towards him, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. Steve’s arms come up to frame his face, and they press together, Bucky’s hand grabbing Steve’s ass and squeezing as they grind their hips together.

“This isn’t bed,” Steve pants when they break apart, and Bucky shoves his shoulder, pushing him towards the bedroom. 

“Lead the way, Cap.”

*****  
The next morning Steve declares that they’re going out for a run. He says this in the shower, just after giving Bucky a rather spectacular blow job.

“Um… why?”

“’Cause I’ll lose my mind if we spend another day sitting here waiting for this to happen,” Steve says, grunting a little as he gets to his feet. “Come on, it’s good for you.”

It does help Bucky drain some of the nervous tension that is continuing to build up in his body, at least for the two hours they spend pounding the pavement. And he gets to watch Steve’s muscles flex and release, a beautiful sight if there ever was one. They push themselves hard enough to work up a considerable sweat, which of course means another shower when they get home.

By mid-afternoon, however, they’ve run out of distractions. Bucky doesn’t think he can hold it together enough for sex anymore, and Steve doesn’t offer, so Bucky figures he’s feeling the same way.

When they get into bed, Bucky tries not to think that this could be the last time he curls up against Steve, flesh arm draped over Steve’s chest, fingers playing with the wiry hair he hasn’t waxed in weeks. Steve takes Bucky’s hand in his own and rubs his fingers against the curve of Bucky’s wrist, then tangles their fingers together.

Bucky is just drifting off, telling himself that whatever the night is going to bring, he might as well be rested, when Steve tenses.

“What?”

Steve holds Bucky’s hand up, taking it in both his hands and running his fingers over Bucky’s. “When’s the last time you cut your nails? Because I’ve been with you pretty much 24/7 these past few days and….”

Bucky shifts and looks at his hand, then swallows hard. He can’t remember the last time he cut his nails, and they’re still short, edges flat from the last time he filed them. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But it could,” Steve says, a glint of hope in his voice. “It could.” Steve grabs Bucky’s head between his hands, pushing his hair out of the way and examining his ears. “Your ears are definitely back to normal,” Steve says, his breath coming faster.

Bucky opens his mouth and runs a finger over his teeth, and Steve sticks his finger in there too, making Bucky gag. “Quit it.” His teeth are still pointy, and Steve’s face falls when he sees.

“Two out of three?” Steve presses his lips together and stares at Bucky, then sighs. “Eyes are still a little green.”

“Yeah. It’s not so bad, though, right?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nope. Not bad at all.” He leans up and gives Bucky a gentle kiss. “It’s pretty rare, you know. Blue-green eyes. Special.”

“Not as rare as a metal arm.”

“Don’t sulk, I was trying to compliment you.”

Bucky can’t help but smile. “Love you, Steve.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

Bucky leans back down against Steve’s chest. The fact that he no longer seems to be growing claws on his hand is encouraging, but there’s still nothing to do but wait, and no better place to do it than here.

Bucky has finally managed to doze off, lying on his side with Steve at his back when a moan interrupts his sleep, and then a hard kick to his thigh. 

“Steve? You okay?” Bucky turns over, knowing immediately what’s going on.

Steve groans and thrashes again, one arm lashing out towards Bucky, but Bucky catches his wrist easily. 

“Steve, hey, wake up.” Bucky gives him a little shake, hands on his shoulders. He knows some people don’t like to be touched when they’re having nightmares, but Steve isn’t one of them. “It’s just a bad dream. Wake up. Stevie, it’s okay. You’re safe. Wake up.”

Steve’s eyes flash open, his head twisting back and forth, but he slowly calms as he focuses on Bucky.

“Bucky…” Steve breathes, “Shit. I had a bad dream.”

“I know, pal.” Bucky sits back on his knees, giving Steve space to straighten himself out. “Same one?” It’s usually Bucky falling off the train, Steve has told him. Over and over, for years. Bucky’s not sure whether it beats the variety of assassin memories that come to him when he sleeps, but it doesn’t actually matter. _It’s not a competition,_ he hears Sam say in his therapist voice.

“Nah. Different.”

Bucky tilts his head, wondering what new hell Steve’s brain has decided to torment him with. Then he suddenly realizes.

“Am I a cat?”

Steve nods. “And not a cuddly one.” Steve reaches for Bucky, and pulls him close, running his hands over his shoulders and down his back. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says, tense in Steve’s arms.

“Not your fault.”

The moment lengthens, and Bucky tries to get comfortable again.

“You’re not gonna change tonight,” Steve suddenly says, his voice certain.

“It’s not even midnight yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not. I can tell.” Steve slides his palms over Bucky’s spine, rests a hand on his right shoulder blade. “I can feel it in your body.”

Bucky huffs out a bitter laugh. “You can’t.”

“I can. You don’t have to believe me. But I know it, Buck. I know you. Go to sleep, you’ll be okay.”

This shouldn’t be reassuring, Bucky thinks as he drifts back into sleep. But somehow, it is.

*****  
Bucky doesn’t turn. Not that night, not the next. Not ever again.

When they wake up the next morning, Steve giddy and tickling Bucky all over his pale, fur-free skin, Bucky says that the relief he feels is indescribable. They laugh about it over breakfast as Steve challenges Bucky to put it into words.

“Better than the nuns not catching you sneakin’ out? Better than beating Clint at poker?” Steve teases.

“Better than those,” Bucky says. “But it could have been worse.”

Steve imagines he’s talking about his years under Hydra’s control, and he has to agree.

“You were an extremely cute cat.”

Bucky blushes prettily, just like he did the last time Steve said this. It’s one of the reasons Steve keeps saying it. “Thanks… still…”

“Still, our lives will be a lot less complicated if we don’t have to worry about you changing every month. Or worse.”

Bucky nods. “Agreed.” He frowns. “You think the serum cured me?”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe the fever burned it out of you.”

“Your ma always said a fever was your body’s way of healing you.”

“So how come my fevers never worked any miracles?” Steve asks, remembering too many nights spent huddling under thin blankets, wishing he had worked up the courage to ask Bucky to keep him warm.

“Don’t know. Not as lucky as me, I guess.” 

Steve is floored by Bucky at times like this – how he can refer to himself as lucky, considering the unspeakable things that have been done to him. But if Steve can be a part of making Bucky feel good, well, it’s a job he’s happy to do.

“You’ve got that wrong, jerk. I’m the lucky one,” Steve says.

“Sap.” But Bucky smiles, and it’s reaching his eyes. There’s still a hint of green in with the blue, but if that’s the only thing left of this whole mess, Steve thinks they got off easy. He leans in for a kiss, parting Bucky’s lips and letting his tongue run over his teeth, which are decidedly not pointy.

Bucky pulls back and sticks his finger in his mouth, smiling even wider. “How the hell did this happen? They were sharp last night.”

“No idea.”

Bucky shakes his head, and then frowns, looking like he’s afraid to disappoint Steve with his next words. “Sure you won’t miss the…?”

“Kinky cat sex?” Steve asks, reaching out with one hand to pull Bucky closer. “Nah. We’ll get by, I think. You’re plenty sexy just the way you are.” Steve puts his money where his mouth is, or, rather, puts his mouth all over Bucky. He clearly needs to prove his point.

And if one day a package wrapped in brown paper appears on their doorstep, containing what appears to be an intimate object attached to a long black cat’s tail… no one need be the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading - please let me know how you liked it!
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve just read, be sure to check out my other Cap RBB fic, [ Love Is Not A Victory March.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11013636)


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